


Spencer Reid: White Knight

by brittishmenorbust



Series: Spencer Reid: White Knight Series [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Danger, English Literature - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Profiling, Romance, Serial Killer, Slow Build, protector - Freeform, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 83,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittishmenorbust/pseuds/brittishmenorbust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The FBI profiling team identifies you as a potential target for a serial killer operating in your area. The man has been killing women and displaying them as characters in famous English literature fiction scenes. Dr. Spencer Reid is assigned to keep you safe while not alerting the killer to your new police protection. The two of you spend a lot of time together and you fall for him. But with a killer out there, are you safe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The house felt larger and lonelier than usual today for some reason. As you sat in your sweats on the couch, you turned on the TV to fill the silence. Your parents had gone to one of their hippie retreats into the mountains. They were out of cellphone and even postal service range; this was nice and not nice. You enjoyed time by yourself, but staying at their house alone was always a little creepy. You did enjoy the pool and hot tub they had, along with their spacious living quarters. Those were perks your apartment did not have. You were going to school for English Lit and therefore were completely broke. Luckily, house sitting was at least like a little holiday from that.

Flipping through the channels, you stopped at the news.

“Two girls, dead,” the woman reported, standing outside a suburban house. 

Why did that house look familiar?

“The killer is believed to be stalking, murdering, and then posing his victims in famous literary scenes. Police say they have the FBI assisting them in the investigation. More later as the story unfolds.”

The banner scrolled across the screen and you realized why the house looked so familiar. That was a house only five streets down from yours. You felt shivers run through your entire body. Something so gruesome so close to home made you queasy. You got up and double checked that the doors were locked. This was supposed to be a nice neighborhood… nothing like that ever happened here.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your cell phone rang. You didn’t recognize the caller, but, thinking it might be your parents calling from a payphone or something, you answered.

“Hello?” you asked tentatively.

“Hello, (Y/N)?” you heard a female voice ask.

“Yes,” you answered hesitantly. 

“Hi, this is Penelope Garcia, I’m with the FBI,” she talked quickly.

“Um, hi?” you suddenly felt shaky and sat down. “What’s this about?” you asked, glancing at the television and thinking of the news you’d just heard.

“We’re sending two agents to your house to explain, but we want to put you under police protection,” she said. “Are you aware of the recent killings in your neighborhood?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you answered. “I just heard about it… What’s that got to do with me?”

“It’s very very icky,” she said. Icky? Was she really with the FBI? “And not safe. The two women that he has killed so far have your hair color, eye color, physique, graduate studies major, and are in the same geographic area.”

You were glad you had sat down, as she listed off your entire life and made you feel like you had a bullseye on your back.

“Jesus,” you muttered. Your head snapped up as there was a knock on the door. “Is that them?” you asked, suddenly terrified it might be the killer. A killer wouldn’t knock, you chided yourself.

“Yes, sugar. I’ll stay on the line till you answer if you want,” she added.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

You walked to the door and peeked through the side panels of windows. Outside stood a large, muscular black man who looked like he belonged in a catalogue; next to him stood a tall and scrawny man wearing what looked to be clothes that belonged to an 80 year old gentleman. He ran his hand through his messy hair and bobbed up and down on his toes.

The black man knocked on the door and you jumped back.

“(Y/N)?” he projected. “This is Agent Morgan and Doctor Reid, our colleague called you?”

“That’s them,” you confirmed on the phone with Penelope.

“Okay, call me if you need anything,” she offered and then hung up.

You put your phone in your pocket and opened the door. Suddenly you felt a little self conscious of your attire, but it wasn’t like you were expecting company. Opening the door, you saw the skinnier man’s eyes dart to yours. They were so intense, so probing, you had to look away. The other man smiled.

“Hi,” he said gently. “I’m Derek Morgan,” he held up his badge.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid,” said the other, holding up his badge as well.

You gave them your name although they already knew it.

“May we come in?” Derek asked. You were soothed by his gentle and low voice. 

“Yeah, sorry, of course,” you said. You had been so muddled by everything that had just happened, you had forgotten they should probably come in. 

The light summer air drifted into your air conditioned house as the two men stepped inside. 

“Do you guys want water, or tea or anything?” you offered, at a loss for what proper etiquette was in this situation.

“We’re fine, thank you,” Derek answered for them both.   
Reid’s eyes were taking in your foyer, noticing everything. His eyes fell on the book you had left on the credenza earlier in the evening. You saw a small smile form on his lips, but he said nothing.

“We should probably sit down,” Derek suggested. 

You nodded and showed them the way to the living room. You turned off the TV and sat down, gesturing for them to sit anywhere. They chose to sit across from you.

“So what’s this all about?” you asked. “The woman on the phone said something about me being a target for some psychopath?” you asked.

“Um, sociopath, actually,” Reid interjected. “A psychopath is more violent and prone to emotional outbursts, whereas a sociopath is less prone to violent outbursts, but if inclined towards violent behavior will be more likely to be rational and precise about his kills.” He finished with a small, knowing smile. You saw Morgan give a small sigh as he glanced at his colleague.

“Oh,” you said, not expecting that answer.

“What he means is that we have profiled the man who has killed the two young girls in this neighborhood,” he explained. Reid’s face fell, like he thought he had done something wrong. “We think he might be targeting you next. So far the women have been in your program, have the same physical attributes as you, and are all in this area.”

You gulped.

“Oh,” you said, your voice shaky. You lifted your hand up to brush your hair behind your ear and found that it was shaking. You looked at it and quickly put it back down.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Morgan assured you. “You probably should be. This guys is not going to stop until he gets his perfect fantasy. But we don’t want that to happen.”

“Yeah, me either,” you nervously laughed.

“We think he means to finish his favorite scenes from English literature _ , _ ” Reid explained. “He wants to take beautiful young women and make his favorite scenes come to life.”

You blushed despite yourself. This young, handsome man just called you beautiful. He didn’t seem to notice your reaction, but you saw Morgan smirk.

“The tricky part is, we don’t want him to run because we might lose him. So he can’t know that you have a police detail.”

“We could take you to a safe house, but we thought you would be more comfortable living here with one of us guarding you,” Reid explained.

“Won’t he still come after me then?” you asked.

Morgan shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes,” Reid replied, straightforwardly. 

“So I’m… bait?” you reasoned.

“You won’t be in any danger,” Morgan assured.

“Hah,” you heard yourself laugh. How had your life changed in so little time?

“You’re actually safer here with us than you would be elsewhere alone,” Reid said. He had soft eyes, you noticed. He looked tired, but also extremely present at the same time.

“So what do I do?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Morgan said. “Live your life. Reid will stay here with you to protect you. You can just go on living like you would. We would advise against going out, but if you need to, he will accompany you.”

“I thought you said I shouldn’t be seen with police protection?” you questioned. 

“He would dress in civilian clothes. To anyone else he’s your friend, boyfriend, whatever,” Morgan explained.

You nodded, taking this all in. Well, at least you wouldn’t be in the house alone anymore. And you would be protected. Your hands were still shaking.

“Just Dr. Reid?” you asked. 

You didn’t mean to be rude, but he wasn’t exactly the most protective looking guy you were sure the FBI had. If anything, you would have thought Morgan would have stayed.

“Again, it has to look like you’re not with the police or FBI. Reid can play that part. And trust me, he will protect you until his dying breath. He’s an excellent shot, and exceedingly smart.”

“A genius, actually,” Reid corrected him. Morgan rolled his eyes goodnaturedly.

“Okay,” you said, not entirely convinced. Reid smiled hesitantly at you.

Morgan stood then and walked a few feet towards the door. Reid stood too and you followed suit.

“Call us if you need anything,” Morgan said. 

You walked with him towards the door, Reid trailing being you. Morgan held out his hand to you and you shook it.

“I mean it. If you need anything, just let us know. You’ll be safe with Reid,” he promised. Something in his eyes told you to trust him. He truly thought you would be safe with the man standing behind you.

“Thank you,” you spoke softly.

You watched Morgan go. As the door closed behind him, it grew silent. You turned around, forcing an awkward smile at Reid who was looking at you like a lost puppy.

“So,” you said. “What now?”


	2. Chapter 2

There was an uneasy silence as Reid looked at you. It felt like he was calculating something, but before you could determine what, he spoke.

“Whatever you want. You can pretend I’m not here, I’ll just get out of your way.”

The idea did not appeal to you. Now that you were the target of a madman, you didn’t want to be alone. 

“No,” you sounded almost too eager. “I mean… Please, if you would stay with me, I’d appreciate it,” you amended, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. Again Reid gave you that look of observation, but nodded.

“As you wish,” was all he said. 

He followed you to the kitchen and took a seat at the counter, laying his satchel beside him. You went to work making tea, a process which always calmed you. Turning on the kettle after filling it with water, you turned to get two mugs out of the cupboard.

“Tea?” you asked him, showing him the extra mug.

“Yes please,” he he responded happily. Again there was a silence, but he decided to fill it. “Did you know all tea comes from the same plant:  _ camellia sinensis _ ? There are different types of the plant, but it’s the same thing essentially. The difference comes from the way the leaf buds are prepared.” He smiled at genuinely, and you wondered if he enjoyed displaying these little bits of information to people.

You smiled at him.

“I did, actually,” you replied, to which he gave a small hint of surprise.

“Oh,” he blushed a little.

“Did you know that Iced Tea was invented in 1904 at the world’s fair?” you tried.

“I did,” he smiled. It seemed he was not alone in useless information acquisition.   
The kettle whistled and you bustled over to tend to it, taking it off the burner and filling the two mugs with water.

“Earl Gray okay?” you asked, taking out the tea bags.

“Perfect,” he said. 

You dipped the bags into each mug and waited for them to steep.

“So,” you said, feeling better making conversation than silently worrying about being murdered. “How many useless facts do you have rattling around in that big brain of yours?”

“No fact is useless,” he replied. His hands fidgeted like he was nervous, but he spoke quickly. “You would be surprised the amount of times something like that has helped out on a case.”

“I bet I would,” you smiled. “So, what, do you have a photographic memory or something?”

“Eidetic,” he corrected.

“So you remember everything you’ve ever seen?”

“Seen, read, felt, heard. Yes,” he gave a half-hearted smile.

You perked up and smiled.

“So you remember all the books you’ve ever read. You can just flip to a page in your head and read it at any time?” you asked, intrigued and slightly jealous.

“I can,” he smiled. For some reason he seemed to find your interest in him confusing. His brow furrowed a bit when you asked your questions.

“Sorry if I’m being too intrusive,” you apologized. “I just am fascinated by you.” You blushed, meaning to have said that you were fascinated by his memory. “I mean… Your memory,” you quickly amended, playing with a strand of your hair. Again with that calculating look from him.

“It’s fine,” he assured you. “Just… No one’s really asked before.”

You wondered why as you served him his tea.

“Milk or sugar?” you asked. 

“Black for me,” he answered, taking the steaming cup. 

As you handed the mug to him, your hand brushed against his. A jolt of electricity shot through you at the contact. You blushed, feeling embarrassed that so little contact could make you feel so much. At first glance, you hadn’t thought too much of Reid. He had been standing next to Morgan at first, after all. But now… alone with him… there was something about him. He was easy to be with and you were starting to like him. 

“Me too,” you said. “So… what’s on page 195 of ‘Pride and Prejudice’?” you asked, interested to know if he would know this off the top of his head. You had no idea yourself.

“‘But this idea was soon banished, and her spirit was very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room,’” he recited without hesitation.

Your jaw dropped. You saw him waiting for something… Your approval? You smiled at him.

“That’s amazing,” you decided. You saw a faint blush on his cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Meretricious,” he answered humbly.

“Sure, Sherlock,” you smiled, recognizing the vocabulary. His head perked up.

“Did you know that not once does Sir Doyle write,’Elementary, my dear Watson,’?” At least, not in that particular phrasing.”

“I did,” you smiled. “And if he knew that we were still discussing that blasted Sherlock today, he’d probably roll over in his grave and cry.”

Reid laughed, a sound that at first startled you, having not expected to elicit it, but afterwards made you chuckle as well. Reid seemed to check himself after a moment and ceased laughing, although a smile still played on his lips.

“Do you read a lot then?” you asked.

Reid nodded. 

“We travel a lot, and it’s a good way to pass the time. Although I can read 20,000 words per minute, so I usually have to take a few books.”

“Wow,” you couldn’t stop yourself. “If I had that kind of time and reading power… I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You’d probably read the classics in their original languages,” he suggested. “That’s what I do.”

You suddenly felt very inferior. This man was obviously leagues ahead you in intelligence.

“Well, I can order a beer in Spanish,” you jested. He laughed again.

“Very impressive,” he joked.

“So what’s that like, living with those characters all the time?” you asked. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“When I read a book, it’s like the people in them are my friends. I feel their emotions, their pain, their pleasure… It must be crazy to have access to that kind of emotion all the time.”

He cocked his head and twisted his mug around.

“I never really thought about it like that,” he said.

“I suppose you have that with your memory too,” you rambled. “My memories fade, and pain lessens… But you must…” you stopped yourself. You’d gone too far. How was it your business what pain or happiness Reid felt? Not to mention pointing it out like that must have felt to him like you were putting him on display or observation. “Sorry,” you apologized.”

Again he surprised you by giving you a shy smile.

“No,” he said. “It’s fine. Honestly, no one really notices that about my memory. They all just think it’s this wonderful tool, and it is… But it’s also quite haunting at times.”

“I can only imagine,” you commiserate, feeling relieved that you hadn’t angered him. “The cases you work on alone,” you trailed off, imagining worse situations than this.

“But I also remember the joy of saving people. Their expressions are often saving graces.”

You nodded, sipping your tea.

“Do you want any more?” you asked, gesturing to his nearly empty mug.

“No, thank you,” he replied.

You nodded, unsure what to do now. Were you being selfish by taking up his time? Was he meant to be doing something important and your need for company was keeping him from it? There was also a small feeling at the bottom of your stomach, like a gnawing guilt that thought that maybe he was just being nice to you because you were in his charge. Even after just a few hours with him you were starting to like this man… really like him. You had noticed the small nervous habits he had and found them endearing. You thought he was kind and intelligent. You wanted to spend more time with him… But did he feel the same about you? Or was he just being nice to make you feel safe and comfortable, as was his job? It was impossible to tell. You didn’t want to indulge these feelings if there was no chance for reciprocation, but how could you tell if his actions towards you were true or merely out of obligation?

The sun had set at this point and it was starting to get pretty late. 

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” you told him. Maybe some time away from him would help you figure this all out. “If anything happens, or if you need anything, don’t hesitate to wake me up or whatever you need,” you offered.

“I’ll be fine,” he answered. “But thank you.”

With a parting smile, you went upstairs to your room. You dressed and got ready for bed. Of course, you were unable to sleep. Thoughts of your situation, of Reid, and various other things floated through your head. Eventually, after a few hours, you were able to fall asleep, although the dreams were certainly not pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if the facts are iffy/not greatly informed. I'm mostly going off memory here and just going for the general ideas! also sorry if the literary references are random. I'm just going off what I've read recently!


	3. Chapter 3

You woke early, too early for your liking. You hopped in the shower, hoping it would wake you up. It did, a little, but it also reminded you of that scene in  _ Psycho _ , after which, you quickly vacated it. 

Although your parents had air conditioning, it was a little warm this morning. Rather than bother with the complicated thermostat, you simply dawned less clothes, opting for a form-fitting tank top and shorts.

Glancing in the mirror, you stopped yourself. It was such a strange turn of events lately, and perhaps you should have looked gaunt or more worried… Yet there was a strength about you. You looked healthy and engaged with the world. You allowed yourself a quick smile at your appearance and headed downstairs to see what Reid was up to.

When you arrived downstairs, a lovely domestic scene was taking place. Sitting at your kitchen table, Reid sat reading the paper and drinking some tea. Having told him to help himself the night before to anything he wanted, you were happy he had taken initiative. He heard your footsteps and set the paper down. You saw his eyes quickly glance over your body. Your mind went to the thought of how fast he could read, and you wondered if he could read people as easily and as quickly. 

Reid folded the paper and revealed a second cup of tea with a plate over the top, keeping in the heat.

“I heard you get up, so I made you a cup,” Reid said with an innocent smile. He pushed the mug towards you as you took a seat across from him. 

“Wow, thank you,” you smiled, pushing your wet hair nervously behind your ear. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said sweetly, “But I wanted to. I’m sure you didn’t sleep well last night and tea will calm your nerves while giving you some energy.”

He said it as though this were all rational thought, but you could sense there was something more personal behind it. 

“Well, thank you again,” you said, taking a sip. It was perfect.

Just then, Reid’s phone buzzed. He slipped his hand into his pocket and revealed a small smartphone. He unlocked it and read the text that had come through. His expression was unreadable. It took only a glance for him to read the message, and then he stored the phone away in his pants.

You noticed that today he was not wearing the vest he had before. Today’s outfit seemed more casual. He wore a light, long sleeved shirt despite the heat, and jeans. At the moment he had his shoes off, and under the table you noted he wore two different socks, one striped, the other solid. You smiled at his quirkiness.

“What?” he asked of your happy expression.

“Your socks,” you noted. “They don’t match. I would have thought someone like you would be meticulous about matching.”

“Someone like me?” Reid asked hesitantly.

“FBI,” you clarified. “Don’t they basically breed you guys to wear black and white?”

Reid sighed minutely with what you gathered was relief.

“What did you think I meant?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he smiled sadly. “They do, in fact, train us to be orderly and precise, but if you live your whole life like that, you’d go nuts.”

You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. 

“Was that text about me?” you asked, wondering if there had been an update.

“Morgan texted to say he’d be stopping by. The team found something new apparently. It will undoubtedly help us catch him,” he seemed hopeful.

“Oh,” you said. “Good.” You had sort of forgotten for a moment that this was the reason Reid was here. “Um, Agent Reid,” you started.

“Spencer,” he said. 

“Spencer,” you corrected yourself. “Do you… think we’re in a lot of danger. Like does he know where I’m staying?” You couldn’t help but confess your worry, although you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“He’s highly organized and very passionate about his fantasy, so I’d say there’s a high probability that, even if he doesn’t know exactly where right now, he will within a few days at most.”

You gulped audibly at the straightforward answer.

“Sorry, that was rude, wasn’t it?” he asked. “

“No,” you assured him. “If that’s the truth, I want to know it.”

Spencer gave you a guilty look.

“I should have comforted you.”

“No, that’s not your job,” you reminded him. “Thank you for being honest.”

“While we’re being honest,” he said, trying to lighten his tone, “Your tea selection is amazing.”

You perked up. 

“Thank you. I’ve weeded out the mediocre ones and consider myself a connoisseur.”

“Did you want another cup?” you asked.

“No, thank you,” he responded. 

There was a small silence as you pondered what to say next. Suddenly, an idea came to you. Something you used to do as a kid with your friends.

“Want to play a game?” you asked, standing up. Spencer’s eyes followed your movements carefully.

“I will do whatever you want to do,” he said. You rolled your eyes. “Yes,” he amended. “What game?”

“Come on,” you held out your hand to him. 

He looked at it and hesitated. You would have none of that, and grabbed his hand, bringing him with you into the living room. His hand felt nice in yours - reassuring, strong. You sat down on the couch and he followed suit, sitting a respectable distance from you. You dropped his hand to pick up the remote to the TV. You flipped through and found the channel that played all the old movies. You muted the TV.

“Okay, here’s the game. We pick a character or two and do their dialogue for them. Whoever laughs first at the other’s insanity loses.”

Spencer smiled at you in a way that made you unconsciously blush.

“Alright,” he said, pulling his feet up beneath him on the couch. “Let’s do this.”

The movie was an old western of some sort. There were two main characters in the scene. One was on a horse and the other was holding a gun to him.

“Get off my horse, ya filthy animal,” Spencer started, in his best imitation of a western accent.

“This isn’t a horse,” you responded in the lowest tone you could muster. “It’s a hornless unicorn, and I am freeing him.”

You saw the edges of his lips pull up in a small smile, but he did not laugh.

“You know very well that the last hornless unicorn died in the Great Battle of The Hornless Unicorns last century,” he insisted in his accent. You held back a giggle. To see someone from the FBI, someone that should have been all eyebrows and scowls, do this was something special.

“That’s what you don’t know!” you said, as your character got off his horse. “I was there that century! I saved this one!”

“You’re immortal?” Spencer’s character asked. 

“Yes!” you yelled. “I will never die!” 

And with that, Spencer’s character shot yours, and yours fell, clearly dead, on the ground.

You turned to Spencer and at the same time, you both burst out laughing. The sheer perfection of the coincidence of the film and your dialogue was too much. That, mixed with the tension and apprehension, caused you both to laugh a lot more than was warranted. 

You heard a knock at the door followed by Morgan’s voice announcing he was here. He walked in on the two of you nearly doubled over laughing on the couch. At first he looked confused, but after looking at Spencer for a moment, he smiled. 

You and Spencer were able to get a hold of yourselves soon enough and Morgan waited patiently.

“Having fun?” Morgan asked, more to Spencer than you.

Spencer straightened his legs off the couch and composed a serious face.

“What’s the news?” he asked. 

Morgan sat down a few feet away from you on the edge of the couch. He addressed both of you.

“The morgue had another looks at the girls and found that their vocal chords were inflamed.”

“Inflamed?” Spencer repeated.

“Yeah. It seems that they might have been screaming or yelling for a long period of time.”

Spencer stood and started pacing.

“Or talking,” he said.

“Talking?” Morgan asked, quirking an eyebrow. You watched as the wheels turned quickly in Spencer’s head.

“He might be having them act out these scenes with him. It’s possible he wants to interact with these characters he’s created and do something with them.”

Morgan seemed interested in the idea.

“That would make sense with the compulsive behavior in the scenes he leaves behind,” he agreed.

Spencer suddenly turned to you and walked over to you. He sat down very close to you and looked at you earnestly.

“What did you say? You said, ‘When I read a book, it’s like the people in them are my friends. I feel their emotions, their pain, their pleasure,’” he repeated your words from the other day back to you perfectly. “What if this unsub feels the same way, but far more intensely? What if reading isn’t enough and he has to physically have those characters with him?”

“And when they say something out of character, or something he doesn’t like, he kills them.”

Spencer nodded and you sat, feeling renewed fear roll through you. You didn’t notice as your hand migrated to Spencer’s. You did not feel that he accepted your hand and held it tightly with his own; nor did you notice Morgan’s glance at the two of you as his smirked to himself.

Spencer was looking intently at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you breathed in and out slowly. “Just hearing you guys talk about it like that… It just makes it more real.”

Morgan nodded. 

“It is real, unfortunately. But it seems like Reid here is doing a good job of keeping you safe,” he smiled knowingly. You were too wrapped up in your apprehension to notice.

“I’ll update the team on our theory,” Morgan said, rising up. 

To your chagrin, Spencer rose too, gently placing your hand in your lap. As he leaned down to do so, he whispered, “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to talk to Morgan for a moment.”

You nodded and watched as the two men walked away from you. They walked a ways away and stood near the door, still in your view, but out of hearing range.

Morgan seemed to say something cheeky and he donned a silly smile as Spencer wrung his hands and looked at the ground. Then Morgan spoke again and clasped Spencer on the shoulder in some sort of approving statement. Spencer finally looked at him in the eyes and said something that you thought Morgan probably barely heard. Morgan said one more thing, glanced back at you and waved, and then left.

Spencer came back to you and sat on the couch, not as close as last time, but close enough for you to feel comforted.

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to smile. “I was just having such a good time with you, I almost forgot why you were here,” you admitted.

Spencer smiled broadly at this and then seemed to check himself, resigning to a small grin instead.

“I suppose that’s part of the idea,” he said. “To make you feel safe.”

“I do,” you promised. “I feel safe with you.”

“Good,” he said.

After that, the two of you spent most of the day just hanging out. You played the television game a while longer, and then switched to a board game you had in the closet. The day passed quickly and easily with Spencer. The sun was starting to set and the weather had chilled. 

You had popped in a movie and were watching it, when you decided to pause and make some cookies. Spencer offered to help, but you said it was hardly difficult - all you had to do was scoop up the cookie dough and put it on the tray. It would take two seconds. As you were walking, you heard a loud BANG to the side of you and jumped and screamed. Turning, you realized it was the board game that had fallen from its shelf. 

However, the damage had been done, and your heart was hammering hard in your chest. You felt your knees wobble and felt light headed. All that anxiety had been building up and needed an outlet. 

Just as you were about to collapse on the floor, you felt arms around you, keeping you up. You turned to Spencer, who wore a look of extreme concern. You didn’t care anymore, you just let yourself be held. You nestled your head under his chin and tried to bury yourself in his arms. You let yourself cry. You let yourself feel afraid. This was an insane situation and you couldn’t act normally anymore.

Spencer just held you while you tried to pull yourself together. His arms were wrapped tightly around you and he drew light circles with his fingers on your back, making comforting noises in your ear.

Finally, you wiped the tears away and pulled back a little to see his face. He kept his hands on your back and assessed your face.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “That was stupid.”

“No,” he said. “That was entirely natural. Don’t feel bad at all.”

He seemed sincere in these sentiments and you were extremely grateful.

“Thank you,” you said, trying convey how much you appreciated him. 

You looked into his eyes, and he into yours for a very long moment. Something changed in the air between the two of you. You weren’t scared in that moment. You weren’t worried about anything. There was just him, and his arms around you, and the faint scent of him. For a moment, you thought he was leaning in towards you, but he cleared his throat and stepped back, leaving only one hand on your lower back.

“Maybe we’ll wait on those cookies?” he suggested.

You nodded and let him lead you back to the couch. You sat down, suddenly feeling very tired, but knowing it would be impossible to sleep. Spencer noticed your drooping eyelids.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” he asked.

You laid your head in your hands, feeling like a needy mess. 

“I don’t think I’d be able to sleep,” you admitted. “I know that it was just a game falling down, but in my mind it was him coming for me…”

You trailed off, unsure what other horrible images might come to mind if you continued that line of thought.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, at a loss.

“It’s not your fault,” you smiled sadly at him. 

You thought of your bed upstairs and how scary everything always looked at night alone. A sheepish blush came to your cheeks as you asked him a question.

“Would you… Would you come with me?” you asked. “I don’t think I can sleep if I’m alone. Would you mind just staying with me tonight?” you asked, not daring to meet his eyes. What if it made him uncomfortable? What if he thought you meant something other than his guardianship of you?... And what if he was right?

“Whatever you need,” he said sincerely and without hesitation.

“Thank you,” you said, feeling the warmth of safety rush through you. 

The two of you turned off the TV and headed upstairs. Spencer followed you into your bedroom. You reached for your large sleeping shirt.

“I’ll just wait outside while you get ready,” Spencer said, shying his eyes away from you.

“Honestly, it’s fine,” you said truthfully. 

You’d never been shy about your body and Spencer already made you feel comfortable. Spencer still turned away as you took off your shirt and changed into your sleeping shirt, discarding your bra once the shirt was on.

“I’m decent again, m’lord,” you teased his chivalry.

Spencer shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“You mock me?” he asked.

“Never,” you teased. 

You sat down on your bed, not feeling as tired as you had downstairs. Maybe the falloff of adrenaline was over and you were back to normal already. You watched Spencer in the dim light of the room. He was standing there, waiting for you to say something.

“Come here,” you requested, gesturing to the empty side of your bed.

Spencer did as he was asked and sat at the very edge of the bed. You laid down on your side and looked at him. He seemed nervous, but not uncomfortable. He ran his hands through his hair and bit his lower lip, suddenly finding the walls of your room very interesting.

You pulled the light blanket up and over you, getting comfortable.

“Are you going to sleep too?” you asked, “Or keep watch?”

Spencer turned his gaze to you.

“I can do either,” he said. “At night there is an unmarked police car that has officers not in uniform watching so I can sleep and protect you during the day,” he informed you. “It’s less conspicuous at night, easier to hide,” he added.

“You must be tired,” you noted, worried about the dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m used to it,” he shrugged.

He leaned back a little, slowly becoming more comfortable.

“You can lay down,” you offered.

He looked at the bed and you could tell he wanted to, if for no more reason than to be comfortable. Secretly, you knew you just wanted him closer to you. You felt safer with him closer.

Finally he conceded and laid down facing you on his side. The sight of his curly hair on one of your pillows in your bed was lovely. For a moment your mind created a scenario where you had met under normal circumstances, where you had dated and fallen in love and moved in together. It could have been like this in another life. Shaking the unwarranted thoughts from your mind, you blushed. Surely this man wasn’t thinking of you this way. Surely you were just some silly graduate girl who happened to be in danger.

“Are you too warm?” he asked, noticing your red cheeks.

“No,” you answered, embarrassed. “It’s nothing,” you added.

Spencer looked sceptical but said nothing more. You tried to keep your eyes open. You tried to watch his face as his eyes studied you. You tried to keep that picture of him as long as you could, but your body wanted rest, and it soon found it as you fell asleep.

When you woke up, it was to the bright daylight streaming through your window. You felt a sort of pressure around your stomach and it took you a moment to realize that it was Spencer. You looked around and felt that he was holding you from behind, his arm wrapped around your midsection, pulling you tight to him. You didn’t move for fear of waking him and having him move. You reveled in this moment. The feeling of him beside you felt so nice, so right. It was only for a moment longer that you were able to enjoy it until he stretched and woke up.

As soon as he realized how he was positioned, he moved back, retracting his arm from around your waist. You rolled over, ready to assure him that it was alright, but he spoke first.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, getting off the bed to stand. 

“For what?” you asked.

“I didn’t mean to... You were… I’m so sorry. That was very unprofessional,” he stammered, wringing his hands.

You nearly chuckled. If he only knew.

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “Honestly, it was nice. So thank you,”  you said, not meeting his eyes.

“You were kicking and mumbling in your sleep,” he said softly. “You sounded and looked scared… And I just wanted… Nothing else worked and you wouldn’t wake up… So I just… And you stopped,” he explained.

You were struck by this. You didn’t remember having any bad dreams. Perhaps because they were stopped by Spencer. You looked at him earnestly.

“Thank you,” you said. You got off the bed and stood next to him. You opened your arms to him and hugged him. He was tense at first, unsure, but he soon softened into the embrace and wrapped his arms around you.

“Anytime,” he muttered. You felt his hand brush briefly through your hair, but he seemed to catch himself and returned his hand to his side. You stepped away from him.

You shivered, realizing this morning was rather chilly. Wrapping yourself in a blanket, you and Spencer headed downstairs for some breakfast. You cooked up some eggs together, letting easy conversation flow between you.

It was a strange paradox of a situation. On the one hand, he seemed to be very calm and happy with you. He certainly wasn’t  _ just _ doing his job. That would not have required laughing at your dumb puns or helping you cook. You wanted so badly to believe that he was feeling the same things you were, but how could you know? You were far too scared to ask him. After all, who knew how long you’d be together in this house and you didn’t want the easiness between you two to end.

As the two of you ate your breakfast, you tried to undo a knot in your shoulder. Perhaps it was from writhing around last night in your sleep, but it was very tense and sore. Spencer noticed your discomfort.

“Your trapezius?” he guessed. You cocked your head. “Your shoulder hurts?” he tried.

You nodded.

“Just a giant knot,” you kneaded it, but to no avail. “Maybe I’ll go in the hot tub this morning,” you said, glancing at the tub just outside the back door.

“Warm water and jets would definitely help,” Spencer agreed. 

You stood and walked towards the stairs, intending to get your bathing suit.

“You coming in too?” you asked.

“Oh, no, I didn’t bring a suit,” Spencer laughed.

“I think my dad left a spare pair here,” you remembered. Spencer seemed very hesitant.

“What if I get murdered in the tub?” you tried to joke despite the lump it caused in your throat.

Spencer snapped his attention to you then, clearly not taking it as a joke.

“I was kidding,” you said. “You don’t have--”

“No, you’re right, I should be with you at all times,” he agreed. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small revolver. “But I’m going to have to keep this close by, just in case,” he added.

You nodded, although the thing gave you the creeps. You’d never liked guns, but if it was a gun or taking a chance with a madman, you’d take the gun.

You found your dad’s swimming trunks which were bright red. You handed them to Spencer and slipped into your bathroom to change. 

Again you found yourself looking into the mirror with approval. You looked good in this bikini. It had been a while since you’d wanted to look sexy for someone. Something about Spencer and his nervousness and prudish nature made you want to make him drool.

You grabbed two towels and headed back downstairs. Spencer was waiting with his shirt still on, the bright red trunks hanging loosely around his hips.

You smiled triumphantly as his eyes drifted down over your exposed skin. You considered it a victory when he licked his lips and looked up to the ceiling for a moment.

“Your towel,” you offered him.

Unlocking the door, you stepped outside into the cool morning air. You opened the hot tub and laid you towel beside the steps. Testing the water with your foot, you got in carefully, letting the water surround you. You watched as Spencer took off his shirt, trying his best to cover his chest from you. You could tell that he was lean, even if he was a little skinny. He carefully slid into the water and took a seat across from you. He looked stiff, like he didn’t want to move or he might break something.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered too quickly. He laughed, realizing that he answered too quickly for the truth. “Sorry,” he admitted. “I just… Find myself a little flustered lately.”

You smirked, hoping that you were the reason he was flustered. 

Leaning into the jets, you tried to get them to hit the right muscle. It felt nice, but not exactly what you needed. Your face showed your disappointment.

“Not doing the trick?” Spencer asked.

“Nah,” you answered. You rubbed your aching shoulder with a frown.

Spencer looked like he wanted to say something, but remained silent.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing… Just, I might be able to get that knot out. I know basic anatomy and muscle structure,” he said. You didn’t think it was the heat that made him blush.

“Okay,” you smiled. 

Crossing the hot tub to his side, you sat down next to him and turned your back. He gently moved your hair away from your shoulders and the light touch on your skin made you shiver despite the heat.

“Um… Here,” Spencer’s voice was almost shaking. 

You felt two hesitant hands on your shoulders. At first it was a light touch, but then he began to knead the knot exactly where you needed it.

You blushed as a small moan of relief passed through your lips. You felt him stop for a moment when you did this, but resume massaging you just as quickly. Your head lolled to the side as Spencer continued to perfectly undo the knot in your shoulder. You were leaning back, trying to give him the easiest access. You could feel the knot being undone and he finally worked it all out, relieving a lot of tension. He removed his hands and you fell slowly backwards into his chest, having been leaning against his touch. His hands moved to the sides of your shoulders and you took a deep breath, letting yourself rest against him for a moment. You turned your head up to look at him. You were going to thank him, but something stopped you. The way he was looking at you… almost hungrily. You turned slowly, adjusting yourself to face him without saying a word. His eyes bore into yours, as if they were searching your soul. You moved closer to him, feeling the water move around you. 

He did not move away or even flinch as you brought your hand up and wrapped it around the back of his neck. Spencer’s hand rose to cup your face softly, brushing his thumb against your lips. And then you pulled toward each other, his lips on yours, soft and warm. You kissed him gently, but passionately. It was as though he was a lifeboat on a sinking ship. You needed him. His kiss made you feel loved and safe, and you never wanted it to end.

He pulled away first, still holding your face in his hands. You could feel the flush of your cheeks and hear your heart beating in your ears.

He looked lost, conflicted. He shook his head minutely and pulled away.   
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, moving away from you. “I’m sorry.”

You could do nothing but stare, at a loss for what to say, as he got up and out of the hot tub. He grabbed his towel, still shaking his head and muttering to himself. You stayed in the warm water until he disappeared inside the house.

You touched your fingers to your lips. They were still tingling. What happened? Did he not feel the same fire as you had? You waited a long time, not wanting to go inside. You had done something wrong, crossed the line… And yet you knew that he must have felt the same way too, with the way he responded… Slowly, you convinced yourself you couldn’t live in the hot tub forever. You got up and went inside, wondering just what would happen next.


	4. Chapter 4

Once you made it inside and had toweled off and changed, you had made your resolve. You would act like nothing happened. There was no point in discussing it. His actions had spoken clearly enough: he wanted nothing to do with you in that way. You couldn’t deny you were a little hurt. Despite the situation, you had started to feel happier than you had in awhile. Being with Spencer felt so right, and yet he did not seem to feel the same way. You would simply have to try to make him feel more comfortable until the killer was caught, and then you could go on your separate ways. 

The thought of this all being over was strange. Although it had only been a few days, you almost felt like this was the new normal. Thinking of Spencer leaving and not coming back was something you dared not dwell on. 

Dressing in some sweats and a tank top, you headed downstairs. Maybe you should spend the day apart, or at least not interacting. But the thought of reading or watching TV did not appeal. You knew they would not hold your attention or distract you from the fear of the psycho stalking you.

When you walked into the kitchen, you saw Spencer at the table, looking at his phone.

“Any news?” you asked quietly.

Although you had decided to act like nothing had changed, as if your world hadn’t been revitalized by that kiss, it was turning out to be harder than you thought… and it had only been two seconds.

Spencer studied you for a moment, and, taking your cue, acted the same.

“No,” he said without much feeling. “Nothing yet.”

He gave you a sad sort of smile and quickly looked away. You studied the ceiling and the floor for a while before feeling the awkward silence swell between you like poisonous gas.

“So--”

“What--”

You and Spencer spoke at the same time. You laughed at this, relieving a little of the tension.

“You first,” he gestured. 

You sat down across from him, not remembering what meaninglessness you were about to have said.

“Oh, it was nothing,” you blushed. “Just… was going to ask if you still wanted to hang out with me during the day… or if you’d rather do something of your own… I just… don’t think I can focus on anything at the moment,” you said, tracing the kitchen table’s grout lines with your finger and watching it, mesmerized. 

Spencer considered this for a moment. You did not have to spell it out for him. He knew you were asking if he was still comfortable with you after what you had done.

“Of course,” he said earnestly, waiting for you to meet his eyes. “I will do whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”

You saw him swallow after saying this, like he was holding something back, biting the words back down his throat.

“Okay,” you said. “Thank you.”

“I understand what it’s like to feel how you’re feeling,” Spencer tried. “It’s like you’re running all the time with a giant target on your back.”

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “Pretty much.”

You studied his face for a moment. His eyes were kind and his gaze was soft and caring. You scolded yourself for thinking for a moment that he truly cared about you as more than an innocent civilian.

“So what’s it like then, your job?” you asked. “You get to catch the bad guys and all that. It’s pretty hard core.”

“It’s mostly talking,” he admitted with a shy smile. “Only when we catch them is there any real action.”

“What’s the worst part of the job?” you asked.

Spencer frowned, thinking.

“Sorry,” you said. “I shouldn’t have asked. I was just curious.”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assured you, taking a deep breath. “There are a lot of bad parts, to be honest. Often we have to wait for another victim in order to profile the killer more accurately. It makes me feel… helpless.”

“I bet,” you sympathized.

“And sometimes I have to deal with things… that I’ve done,” he trailed off, but was still holding your gaze. Suddenly his eyes looked heavy and haunted, and you realized why he had those dark circles under his eyes all the time.

“Like what?” you asked. “Sorry… Again, just curious, don’t answer that.”

“No… it’s fine,” Spencer responded. You wondered why he was telling you all of this intimate stuff. Maybe he felt guilty. “I’ve had to… take down suspects… sometimes kill them,” he added with a grimace.

“Oh,” you felt your heart nearly lurch out of your chest. You wanted so badly to hold him and tell him it was okay. “That must be difficult to deal with.”

“Yeah,” he said with an ironic smile. “It’s like… you just replay it over and over wondering if there was anything else you could have done. And the dreams…” he trailed off again. 

You could see that he was getting worked up.   
“Do you… talk about this with anyone?” you asked. “Don’t you basically work with therapists?”

He gave a small laugh.

“Sort of,” he said. “But that’s why I don’t talk to them. I don’t want them analyzing me.”

You nodded. 

“I get that,” you said. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have laid that on you,” he apologized. 

“No,” you reassured him. “Honestly, it’s nice to worry about someone elses problems for a change.”

There was a small silence as you just looked at each other. Again you felt an unspoken and very strong connection with him.

“And what’s the best part?” you smiled.

“Ah,” he smiled back. “The best part is the saving people.”

“Of course,” you said.

“Especially when it’s kids,” Spencer added.

“I bet you get quite a few Christmas cards,” you guessed.

“I send quite a few too,” he smiled. “It’s something that bonds you to someone, saving their life. At least, I feel that way.”

“Makes sense,” you nodded. “Do you ever think of doing anything else? When it gets bad I mean.”

“Sometimes, yeah… Sometimes I just want to run away and play poker or travel or something… Just do what I want to do for a while.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you smiled. “Where do you think you’d travel?”

“Everywhere,” he said wistfully.

“Do you think you ever will?” you asked.

“Maybe one day.”

“Well, when you do, sign me up, I’m coming along,” you said.

You saw a genuine grin come across his face for a moment before it was pushed aside for a small smile. What was with all these changes in expression? You dared not hope for what you thought it might mean.

Spencer’s phone rang suddenly, bailing him out of having to answer you. You sat back and watched him. 

“Hi… Okay…” he hung up. “Morgan’s here,” he said.

“News?” you asked. 

“No, just brought some supplies by for me. Food and such so I can stop mooching off of you,” he smiled.

“I don’t mind,” you said quietly as he went to answer the door. “Tell him I say hi,” you said, assuming it would be a quick drop off and that you would only be in the way.

Spencer nodded and walked towards the door. As he got there, you heard Morgan come in. You thought that it might be worth it to say hello. Perhaps he would help distract you from your feelings for Spencer for a moment. You walked down the hall, out of sight of the door, and you stopped. They were talking about you.

You pressed your back to the wall and stayed there quietly. Eavesdropping was definitely not a good idea, and yet you couldn’t pull yourself away.

“I don’t know,” Spencer sounded distraught.

“She  _ is,  _ man, I can tell these things,” Morgan insisted. You  _ were _ what?

“I think it’s White Knight syndrome,” Spencer confessed. “She only kissed me because I’m her protector. She doesn't’ actually like me.”   
“And what if she does?” Morgan asked. 

“Morgan, be serious.”

“I am, Pretty Boy. It is possible for women to like you.”

“Not her. Not girls like her,” his voice quivered a little.

“What do you mean girls like her?” Morgan asked.

“Beautiful, smart, easy to be around girls.”

“You’ve met many of those?” Morgan nearly laughed.

You couldn’t see him, but Spencer paused for a moment, apparently thinking.

“I guess not..” he considered.

“More reason not to let her get away,” Morgan pursued.

“I shouldn’t think of her like that though. It’s unprofessional.”

“Hey, where else are you going to meet people in this job? As far as I’m concerned, when this is all over, you can do what you want.”

“But how do I know she really feels the same way I do?” he asked, sounding very concerned.

Morgan sighed. 

“How do any of us know?” he asked. “Listen, you know my view on this now. When we get out of this, ask her out, okay?” 

“I don’t know,” he said dejectedly. “It’s so hard not to… It’s hard to hide my feelings from her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable or like she owes me anything,” he explained. “And I don’t want to be with her until she realizes that… That these feelings, which she may or may not have, were just symptoms of her situation.”

Morgan sighed. “You think too much, genius,” he said good-naturedly.

Your heart felt so light in that moment. Spencer truly did like you… He just housed the same concerns you did, only mirrored.

For the briefest moment you considered if this were actually the case, if you did have White Knight Syndrome. Were you only interested in Spencer because he was protecting you? It seemed an archaic and slightly misogynistic diagnosis. Surely just because the agent guarding you was a man, you could still distinguish whether or not you truly liked him. You thought about the moments you’d had together. You thought about the attraction you felt to him, the way you laughed with him. You were very sure it was no syndrome that made you so fond of Agent Reid; but how could you convince him of that?

The agents exchanged their packages and Morgan said goodbye. You hustled back to your spot at the table where Spencer had left you, trying to calm your heart down. The joy that you felt in finding out he did feel the same for you was undeniably wonderful. It felt like you were high. You smiled as he came back into the room.

“Anything good?” you asked.

Spencer shifted the bags around, looking through the food that Morgan had brought. Smiling, he dipped into the bag.

“Pixie sticks,” he said triumphantly. 

“Aren’t those just sugar in a tube?” you asked.

“Exactly!” he said enthusiastically.

You giggled at his childishness and took the stick he offered. You both downed them and grinned, wiping the excess sugar from your lips. Spencer’s eyes flickered down to your lips and he furrowed his brow as he smirked.

“You missed some,” he said, pointing.

You darted your tongue out, still laughing, trying to find the leftover sugar.

“Nope… Nope…” Spencer watched your futile attempts. “Here,” he finally said, still laughing. He brought the tip of his thumb to the edge of your lower lip and wiped the sugar away. His hand lingered there for a moment, trailing down your lip to your chin.

You felt your body tingling at the sensation and you could not break your eye contact with him. After what seemed like an eternity, he dropped his hand, clearing his throat and returning his attention to the bag Morgan had brought. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him and watched his every move. He rifled through the bag but did not stop on any particular object.

“All good stuff,” he muttered absentmindedly. 

You shook your head, breaking the spell that the touch had created. Why did he have such a strong hold over you? Now that you knew he liked you, you wanted to act on it. It had taken everything you had not to grab him and kiss him right there. You couldn’t push it, though. He still believed that you were only interested in him because of the situation. You sighed, wondering how you might ever remedy that. Idly you thought maybe after everything was over and the killer was caught, you might have a chance then. But would he stick around long enough to find out?

You had been staring at the table trying to figure everything out in your head. When you looked up, you realized Spencer had been staring at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked. It seemed people were asking you that a lot lately.

“Yeah,” you lied, moving back from the table. “Just thinking.”

“You know we’ll catch him, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know,” you said automatically. 

“You just… look troubled,” he said softly.

You longed to tell him that you were wondering not about catching the killer, but after. You longed to ask him if he would stay with you for a while and maybe… you didn’t even know what. Maybe date? Maybe create that image of happiness you had seen that night when he laid in your bed next to you?

“I… I need to go for a walk,” you said, suddenly feeling the air leaking out of the room. 

On top of all the anxiety building up from being stalked, the feelings you had for Spencer and the unknowable answers about your future with him haunted you as well. You wanted some kind of release, and thought a walk might help.

“I wouldn’t recommend--” Spencer started as you breezed past him and towards the door.

“It’ll be fine,” you responded, not thinking about anything other than getting rid of the tension in your body.

You heard Spencer walk quickly to follow you as you opened the back door. You didn’t notice that the sky was almost black with heavy clouds promising a summer rain. You didn’t hear the crunch of ground beside you as you stepped outside. You only felt a quick stab of pain, heard a shriek from Spencer behind you, and then everything was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a little while and sorry for the cliff hanger! I'll update soon!


	5. Chapter 5

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. At first you thought everything was okay. Spencer’s face was about six inches from yours, worried, but there. As you came more to your senses, you realized you couldn’t move. Your head ached, resonating pain from the back of your skull. Your arms were wrapped around Spencer’s neck, and you could feel his arms around your waist, but you couldn’t move. Straining your head to one side, you saw why. A metal stand held you in position, latching you to it with rope. The metal extended down your entire body, stretching to meet your limbs. It reminded you of those collector’s toys, posed forever in one way. 

You turned your gaze back to Spencer who eyed you with sympathy and sadness, but he did not speak. You saw that he was similarly restrained. Glancing down, you noticed you were no longer in your own clothes, nor was Spencer.

You were outfitted in a tight fitting, corseted dress. It looked expensive and you felt the weight of it on your frame. Spencer was dressed in a similar period outfit. His suit looked like it could have been out of a Shakespeare reenactment. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered almost inaudibly and without much movement of his lips. “I will get us out of here, I promise,” he said.

It then dawned on you where you must be and who had taken you. You scolded yourself for being so rash. This was all your fault. If you hadn’t insisted on going for a walk… If you had just listened to Spencer… You wouldn’t be tied to poles in a maniac’s warehouse. 

Moving your head and eyes around a little more, you found it wasn’t actually a warehouse, but rather some sort of abandoned theater. There were shabby, moth-eaten curtains hanging near the wings, and all sorts of wood and plastic pieces of some set hanging around.

Just then a spotlight turned on, nearly blinding you. You winced, turning to Spencer and see that he was curiously inspecting it.

Footsteps sounded off the large walls around you and appeared to be getting closer. You tried to wriggle free, get some kind of loosening of the ropes started, but you might as well have tried to fly. You were not going anywhere.

As the man approached, it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to be able to see him. The spotlight had backlit him for a while, but now as he got closer, you were able to see him better.

He was a white male, about 30 years old. He wasn’t unattractive, but nor was he remarkable. He held a large knife in his right hand and had a disturbingly large smile on his face. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans.

“You know,” the man’s voice was higher pitched than you’d anticipated. “I wasn’t sure what to do with a surprise additional character. But I thought, hey, let’s give it a go. Spontaneity is the fruit of writing.”   
“You’re so right,” Spencer addressed him calmly. “Do you like to write?” he tried.

You felt your heart beating fast in your chest. There seemed no possible escape as you were both tied tightly to the metal stands. It seemed your only choice was to talk your way out of this.

The man’s head snapped in Spencer’s direction.

“Silence, Mr. Darcy!” he yelled.

You could see Spencer’s mind whirring, deciding what to do next, analyzing. The man’s eyes turned slowly to you, taking his time in assessing your entirety.

“What a beautiful Elizabeth,” he smiled warmly at you.

“Thank you,” you nearly whispered. It felt like you should respond, despite Spencer’s attempt.

He continued to smile at you and stepped closer. His hand raised toward your cheek and you tried not to shy away as he caressed your face softly. You turned your eyes to Spencer whose helplessness was nearly audible. You could see this was killing him more than it was you.

“What great taste in literature you have,” marveled Spencer. “Your evolution as an artist has all of us astounded,” he sounded sincere.

Again the man twisted to snarl at Spencer.

“I said silence!” he snapped.

“Apologies,” you tried in your best imitation of an English accent. “Mr. Darcy forgets himself. We all know what he can be like.”

Your words surprised even yourself. But honestly, what choice did you have but to act the part? Apparently doing otherwise, at least for Spencer, would be deadly. Your best bet at this point, you decided, was to try and convince the man that Spencer was not needed for this scenario. At least that way you would know he was safe. After that… you had to hope you remembered “Pride and Prejudice” well enough to keep the psycho going.

The man smiled again at you and moved to face you better.

“All is forgiven, my lady,” he responded.

Your mind reeled, trying to figure out how best to execute your plan of action. Anything too forward might set him off. You had to somehow seem to remain in character it seemed.

“I wonder,” you tried, doing your best impression of an amiable woman of the time. “Wouldn’t  _ you _ rather be Mr. Darcy?” you tried. The man did not seem to immediately dismiss the idea. He cocked his head, considering, so you continued. “I know that you like to spend time with us, and I understand, I do! Some of my best friends and greatest loves are characters in the books I read.”

You knew you had his interest. You quickly glances at Spencer who was shaking his head minutely. You ignored him.

“Come with me,” you urged the man. “We can go to Pemberley together. We can dine and dance and fall in love,” you offered, fighting the growing nausea in your stomach. If this got Spencer to safety, though, it was worth it.

The man looked as though he was seriously considering it. He made to speak, but Spencer interrupted him.

“Elizabeth!” Spencer interjected. You turned, surprised. Spencer’s voice lowered and he met your gaze with sincerity. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” he said quietly. 

In another time, in another place, those would have been welcome words. Although you knew the words must have been said under duress, you still longed for the truth that seemed to drip them.

The man’s attention was shifted, and he seemed to smile at Spencer’s newfound engagement.

“I say, Mr. Darcy,” the man laughed. “What a proclamation! And what is your response, Elizabeth?” he prompted you.

You wished you had an eidetic memory like Spencer’s. There was no way you could manage the exact words from the book. You simply remembered the proposal being shot down and hoped that the vague sentiment might be enough. You gulped, nervous now to be on a script rather than improvising. You still wanted to stick to your plan to get Spencer out.

“He is revolting,” you spoke to the man. “I would never accept his love or deem him worthy of mine.”

The man seemed pleased with this response, so you continued.

“I would much rather have someone like you,” you said to him.

“Like me?” the man asked. “But I am a simple servant.”

“Oh, you are so much more,” you lied. “Don’t you remember last April?” you tried.

“The dance,” he gasped. Internally you were screaming. You had no idea what you were doing. All you could hope was that he was delusional enough to believe whatever you said, so long as you stayed in character.

“I always meant to say hello, but my sister would not let me,” you made up. A glance at Spencer told you he was not pleased with your plan, but you ignored him.

“Mr. Darcy may claim to love me, but it is not real,” you said, realizing the irony of the situation. “I know that you are my true love. Come, let us be together. Make Mr. Darcy leave at once.”

The man made to move towards you, but Spencer spoke again, stopping him.

“Please, Elizabeth,” Spencer begged you. Again you turned your gaze to him. There was something in his eyes. Something that hadn’t been there when he had been lying to the man earlier. There was sincerity, despite the quoted words. “If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once.  _ My _ affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.''

Your breath was stolen away. You were silent, not knowing what to say in response.

“Elizabeth?” the man asked quietly, clearly enraptured in Spencer’s performance. “Is this true? Do you truly love Mr. Darcy?”

You could hear the desperation in his voice, but not how you would have expected it. He wanted you to be with “Mr. Darcy.” If you failed in this response, it could mean your life, but it would also mean Spencer could not escape. 

“Elizabeth?” the man prompted.

You looked at Spencer. His eyes were troubled and heavy with sadness. You tried to tell him with your eyes that you were not scared, even though you should have been trembling, because he was there with you. The man was waiting for your response, so you obliged. You kissed Spencer, having only to move your head forward a little ways. He responded in kind, making you forget for a few sweet moments, that you were in this awful situation. When he pulled away, you kept your eyes closed, resting your forehead against his.

Just then, a door was kicked in from off stage. You turned your attention towards the sound.

“Freeze! Hands in the air, drop the knife!” you heard a male voice say. 

Soon you saw Morgan emerge from the wing, followed by a blonde woman, and a black-haired man.

The man did, in fact, drop the knife and did as he was told, not resisting his arrest as the blonde woman took him away. Morgan rushed over to the two of you, accompanied by an older gentleman who had come from the other side.

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked you, cutting the ropes that bound you to the poles. You freed your wrists and rubbed them, feeling that they would definitely bruise. He cut the ropes from your waist and feet as well, while the older agent freed Spencer. You stepped aside from the pole.

“I think so,” you responded hazily. It had all happened so fast.

You glanced up at Spencer and he walked quickly over to you, wrapping his arms around you. You fell into him and hid against his chest, burying yourself under his chin. You were shaking now, of all times, and he simply held you. 

“You got her, kid?” Morgan asked Spencer. You felt Spencer nod in response. “Okay. You can come give your statement whenever you’re ready,” Morgan addressed you. 

“Okay,” you answered softly, not moving from the safety of Spencer’s arms.

You stood like that with him with the other agents walked around collecting evidence and talking. He just let you ride out the shock and didn’t say a word until you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

“I am so sorry,” he said, as soon as you looked up at him.

“Why?” you asked. 

“I said I would protect you,” he responded. “And I couldn’t.”

You shook your head.

“It was my fault. I went outside,” you admitted. “It’s my fault.”

“But you got us out of this,” Spencer said. “You were the one who saved us. He listened to you.”

You shrugged. 

“Crazy people understand crazy people,” you tried at a joke. Spencer’s lips formed a tight line.

“Hey, Spence, we gotta get going,” the blonde agent approached you. “I’m Jennifer, would you mind coming with me?” she asked you gently.

You obliged and followed the agent away from Spencer, despite it feeling like you were leaving your heart behind. You followed the blonde agent out to an awaiting ambulance.

“That’s not necessary, I’m fine,” you assured her as she led you closer, feeling the throbbing in your head subsiding a little.

“Protocol,” she answered with a sympathetic grimace. “Agent Morgan will be along in a moment to take your statement if you’re ready.” You liked her kind eyes and soft touch.

“Sure,” you said, allowing her to hand you over to an EMT. “Hey, how did you find us?” you asked.

“Oh, the unsub didn't’ realize Spence still had his phone in his jacket. When he didn’t respond, we were able to track it here.”

You thanked your stars for such a lucky mistake. 

The EMT checked you over while Morgan came to take your statement.

After giving him an account of what you remembered, he put his pad away and looked at you for a moment, considering something.

“So what are you going to do now?” he asked.    
“Go home?” you tried.

“You know what I mean,” he smiled.

You shifted and blushed. Morgan was too perceptive, you thought. Although it made sense, given his job.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I’m not sure he wants anything to do with me after this.”

“For two very smart people, you’re both stupid,” Morgan laughed. He said nothing more before walking away, grinning.

You wondered why he hadn’t said goodbye, and hoped it was because he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw you.

Once your evaluation was over, a local cop offered you a ride home. You searched for Spencer, but did not see him. Begrudgingly, you let the cop give you a ride home, despite your longing to see the Spencer. Your aching head and tired limbs were enough to convince you that it could wait. But what would happen when you saw him again, you could only guess.


	6. Chapter 6

When you finally got home and collapsed on your bed, you slept for twelve hours. You blindly groped for your phone which had roused you from your death-like sleep. It was ringing and you picked it up without even opening your eyes.

“Hello?” you answered groggily.

“(Y/N)?” you heard Spencer’s hesitant voice on the other side.

You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice, instantly awake.

“Sorry, I was asleep,” you explained. “What’s up?”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized hastily. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon so I figured… Anyway… I was just… I’m in the neighborhood and…” he trailed off.

You jumped at the chance to see him again.

“Yeah, stop by!” you offered, perhaps too hastily.

“Okay,” you could almost hear his relieved smile. “I’ll be there in ten if that’s okay.”

You looked down at your disheveled form and grimaced.

“Sure,” you said, hoping for a miracle or super speed.

“Great,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face if you wanted to.

As soon as you hung up you ran to your closet to find some clothes that weren’t rumpled with sleep. You brushed your hair and even managed to put on a little makeup before you heard the doorbell ring. It felt like Christmas morning or something of the kind. You raced downstairs and stopped just before the door, catching your breath.

Opening the door you found Spencer standing before you with a shy smile on his lips. He was wearing a dress shirt and vest, dress pants, and converse sneakers. His hair was playfully dishevelled and he stood with his hands clasped together in front of him.

“Hi,” he said nervously.

“Hi,” you smiled. 

It should have perhaps felt strange to meet with him after everything that had happened. Didn’t the cops usually save the victim and then go back to their job? You wondered how long he still had in this area.

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. He brushed by your hand on his way in, sending a stroke of lightning through you. He walked into the foyer and stood facing you.

“Did you get in touch with your parents?” he asked, trying to break the ice.

You explained that you’d finally been able to get in touch with them and that you were glad they’d missed all of the drama since everything worked out alright in the end.

Spencer looked down at his shoes at the mention of the event.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said quietly. 

“Why?” you asked.

“I should have kept you safe. That never should have happened.”

“No one’s perfect,” you assured him. “Besides, we made it out,” you reminded him.

“But I got distracted… I should have been more…” he trailed off again, not looking at you.

“Distracted?” you asked.

“The agents are not supposed to be emotionally involved,” he said. “I made a mistake.”

“Emotionally involved?” you repeated, stepping closer to him.

Spencer looked up at you with embarrassment on his features. If you hadn’t overheard his conversation with Morgan, you would have been very surprised at this moment. As it was, you knew it was hard for him to both admit his feelings for you for fear of being rejected, as well as figuring out if what you felt for him was still there or still real.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said, reaching for his hand. “I like you. A lot,” you smiled. His hand was warm and solid in yours.

“But I don’t think you do,” his voice was high, strained.

“White Knight syndrome?” you guessed. He cocked his head to the side. You blushed.

“I kind of overheard you talking to Morgan the other day,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Oh,” you saw a blush come up on his cheeks. “You heard everything?” he asked.

“You think I’m pretty, smart, and easy to be around?” you squeezed his hand.

“Beautiful,” he corrected you quickly. “And I know you’ve expressed… similar sentiments… but I don’t want you to wake up in a week or so and realize the infatuation has passed.”

He looked genuinely sad and you wanted to make that go away.

“Then we take it slow,” you offered.

He nodded and looked at you, as if trying to decipher something. You stepped in and cupped his face gently in your hands, pulling him towards you. You could tell he was nervous, but when you kissed him, his body relaxed, and he wrapped his arms around your lower back. You kissed for a few moments before he pulled away.

“Slowly,” he repeated with his eyes still closed. You giggled, but did not remove yourself from his eyes. He finally looked at you and smiled. “Would you like to join the team and I for drink tonight?” he asked.

The team, the people that had saved your life, yes, you thought, you’d like an opportunity to thank them.

“Sure,” you replied happily. Your stomach growled just then. “Maybe we should get food before we meet them?” you asked.

Spencer frowned. 

“I can’t,” he said. “I have to go help the team with finishing up the paperwork. I shouldn’t even have left, but Morgan insisted,” he smiled. 

“Remind me to thank him,” you laughed. “Why don’t you call me when you’re on your way then?”

“Will do,” he replied. He then let out a long sigh. “I really do not want to go back.”

You kissed him and watched as he grinned.

“That did not help with me leaving,” he teased.

“Sorry,” you replied, not sorry at all.

Regretfully, you watched Spencer leave and headed upstairs. You didn’t have much to do so you read for a while, ate dinner, and waited until the time Spencer had said they were about to head out. Not knowing where you were going, you simply sided with a black dress that flattered your body in many ways. You curled your hair into loose ringlets and put on comfortable but stylish shoes. Taking one last look in the mirror, you couldn’t believe how much had changed in so little time. Your phone buzzed and you saw it was Spencer telling you they were on their way to pick you up. Getting into a car with the most intelligent and badass crime fighters in the country was a bit intimidating, but you hoped the relaxed atmosphere would help calm the feelings of inadequacy and not belonging. After all, you were merely a victim here. It wasn’t like you were a cop or any sort of law enforcement. You cringed, realizing how little of a place you held in this group and you hadn’t even been with all of them together yet. You hoped you could keep up with them, and more specifically, that Spencer would want you to.

You waited outside in the night air, letting the summer breeze blow through your curls. It smelled delightfully like flowers and you closed your eyes. Hearing a car pull up, you walked into your driveway. A large, black, SUV stood waiting and the back door opened. Spencer stepped out. You would have thought that perhaps he would have donned something more casual, but he still stood in his usual shirt and vest, albeit without a tie tonight. His converse sneakers still peeked out of his otherwise semi-professional wardrobe. He smiled broadly and held the car door open for you. 

“You look amazing,” he said, swallowing hard after he said it. You watched his pupils dilate as he took in your dress. 

“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” you winked. 

You got into the car and noticed that a woman in a bright pink dress with fake sunflowers on her headband and bright blue glasses was already sitting on the far side of the three-person back seat.

“Oh, hello,” you greeted, settling in close next to her. Spencer slid in beside you and closed the door.

“Hello!” she greeted you warmly as if you’d already met. At your quizzical look she added, “We met on the phone, I’m Penelope.”

She held out her hand, and, realizing who she was, you smiled and shook it.

“Hi,” you greeted again. “Nice to meet you in person. Your lipstick is amazing,” you added. “Dirty Orange?” you asked.

Penelope grinned and leaned forward to address Reid.

“I like her,” she decided. 

“Hello again, (Y/N),” a familiar voice addressed you from the front seat.

“Morgan,” you smiled, “Hi!”

Jennifer turn from the passenger’s seat to greet you as well and you suddenly felt very comfortable. Although your fears of inadequacy were not completely gone, they were stemmed in favor of the welcoming, fun atmosphere the team provided. You wondered how they could be so nice and cheerful with all they’d seen. You thought perhaps saving you had helped with that.

“Where are we going?” you asked as Morgan started to pull out of the driveway.

“We’re meeting Hotch at The Tavern,” he explained. 

The Tavern was a local pub with a relaxed atmosphere so you were content with that choice. During the car ride, you talked with the agents easily, explaining a little more about yourself as they had only known you from your profile and records. All the while, you and Spencer discretely held hands, although you did notice Penelope’s eyes glance down several times at them and smile afterwards.

When you arrived at The Tavern, Hotch had gotten you a table already. After introducing yourself and finding him very lovely, despite his serious-looking face, you all sat down around the table and ordered a first round of drinks. Again you found yourself holding Spencer’s hand under the table. It made you feel like you were in high school again.

The conversation flowed freely and the agents all had interesting stories to tell. Now and then Spencer would chime in with an anecdote or an interesting fact, and you would try your best to contribute when you could. But mostly it was nice just to be with people. You felt  _ safe _ , too; Something that you thought might never happen again after the events that had taken place.

Someone tapped your shoulder lightly later on in the evening, and you turned around to see a handsome stranger looking down at you.

“Hi,” he said nervously. “I know you’re with some friends, but I was wondering if I could maybe buy you a drink?” he asked.

He seemed nice and sincere enough, but little did he know, he had no chance.

“Oh… Umm,” you stammered, feeling the eyes of all the agents on you. If Spencer had told them about the two of you yet, he hadn’t said so. Was your relationship supposed to be a secret? At least for now? You didn’t even know what your relationship status was. Suddenly all sorts of questions flooded your head and you didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry, man, she’s with this guy,” Morgan stepped in smoothly, pointing to Spencer. 

You saw the guy glance at the man seated next to you and he frowned, seeming a little confused.

“Oh, sorry, have a lovely evening then,” he said genuinely, after recovering from the rejection and confusion.

“Thanks,” you told Morgan. “Sometimes I forget how to interact like a human.”

He laughed and clapped you gently on the shoulder.

You looked at Spencer who was smiling at you. You blushed. Morgan’s declaration of the two of you being together was actually very sweet, despite its rational and perfunctory exposition.

“So you are together then?” Penelope asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I think so,” you blushed. Despite the clear acceptance from the team, it was still overwhelming to have so many people know about something so new.

“We’ve been trying to get Reid to date someone for forever,” Jennifer smiled. “He’s so picky!”

“Picky is a bit extreme,” Spencer answered. “I’d say fastidious, or meticulous.”

“Stop, Human Thesaurus, you’ll scare her away,” Morgan joked.

“You could also say he was punctilious,” you interjected, drawing a few jaws open in surprise. “Lit major,” you shrugged. The team laughed.

“Marry her,” Hotch said, taking a sip of his drink.

Spencer laughed and kissed your cheek, drawing a chorus of childish “Oooooh’s” from the team.

It felt good to have the team’s approval. They obviously cared a lot for Spencer and wanted the best for him. They wanted you for him, so that must mean something good.

“How long are you guys sticking around?” you asked, hopeful that this night might repeat itself.

“We’re never sure,” Hotch replied. “Could be we get a call about a case in the next town over tomorrow, and we stay, or we get a case in Florida, and we take off. It’s always a surprise.”

“Lot’s of travel then,” you smiled, envious.

“The private jet’s not so bad,” Morgan shrugged and winked.

“Except we’re all stuck in a confined space with Spencer, which means we can’t run away from him begging to play chess.”

“I do not beg,” Spencer insisted. 

The whole team looked at each other and laughed.

“Sure,” Morgan said sarcastically. 

“I don’t,” Spencer assured you, to which you laughed. 

Although it was a light conversation, the thought of Spencer leaving soon was heart breaking. You pushed it aside for the moment and focused on the rest of the evening. You were a little tipsy and feeling very happy. Someone had turned a slow dance on from the jukebox and a few couples were making their way to the small area that made up a makeshift dance floor.

Morgan nudged Spencer who promptly blushed.

“Come on, mama,” Morgan held out his hand to Penelope. The two of them stood and walked over to the dancing area.

“Um, would you…” Spencer trailed off, holding his shaking hand out to you.

You ignored his hand in favor of kissing his lips (to which you heard Jennifer’s small gasp of glee) and pulling him up with you, then leading him to a space near Morgan and Penelope.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and flinched, flashing back to your kidnapping.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, loosening his grip on your waist.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling your heart beat too quickly in your chest.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. This is the same position we were….” he moved one of your hands from his shoulders to hold in his, more of a waltz style than slow dancing. For some reason, the change helped, and you looked at him gratefully.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Sorry,” you added, unsure why.

“I should have recognized,” he said. “Do you want to go sit down?”

In response, you nestled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he tightened his hold around your waist again. You swayed with Spencer, the thoughts of your kidnapping soon forgotten. All you could feel was his skin on yours, his body pressed against you, his smell surrounding you. It was truly heaven.

When the song ended, you pulled away slightly to look at him. He leaned in and kissed you gently, quickly, but enough to assure you that he longed for you.

“Come on, lovebirds, next round’s on me,” Morgan smiled, pulling you and Spencer with him back towards the table.

“I think I’m going to hit the restroom,” you mentioned.

“I’ll grab JJ and we can go together,” Penelope offered. You nodded and waited for the girls while Spencer joined the guys at the table.

Once in the restroom, with your business taken care of, the girls stood next to you looking into the mirror.

“So?” JJ prompted you.

“So what?” you blushed, feeling that she had similar intentions and nature as Morgan.

“Spence?” she asked. “What do you think? I mean I know it’s new but… We just love him, and we want him to be happy, you know?”

“I think he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” you said honestly. 

They smiled at you encouragingly. Suddenly all the feelings you had were bursting at the seams. It had been a while since you’d had girl friends to talk to like this and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

“He makes me laugh, he’s  _ so  _ smart, and handsome… He makes me giddy and in awe at the same time, you know? It’s just… new and lovely… and I want him to like me as much as I like him,” you admitted.

Penelope grinned and pulled you into a tight hug.

“With how he talks about you, I’d say he does,” JJ said.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as the three of you left the ladies room. You joined the guys at the table who seemed to have promptly ended whatever conversation they were having as you sat down.

“Did we interrupt something?” JJ asked accusingly at the three guys.

“Nope. No, nothing,” Spencer answered too quickly.

“We were just talking about--”

“Snails,” Spencer interrupted Morgan.   
“Snails, huh?” Penelope indulge him.

“Sure you weren’t talking about a pretty girl in a black dress?” JJ smirked.

You blushed. Their teasing him was adorable but also put you in the center of attention which you were not used to.

“A  _ beautiful _ girl in a black dress,” Spencer corrected, turning to look at you lovingly.

“Aww,” Penelope and JJ sighed in unison.

“Marry him,” Penelope mirrored Hotch’s statement from earlier.

The rest of the night passed with ease and entertainment and you all soon grew tired. The team had sobered up and were ready to drive home. You arrived at your house first and blushed as Spencer got out with you after your having thanked the team for a lovely evening.

He walked you to your door and stood nervously in front of you. 

“Do you want to come in?” you asked, not daring to meet his eyes. “I mean… I know we’re taking this slowly, but I also don’t know how much time you have here… Even if we just hang out… I want to spend as much time with you as possible,” you said.

Spencer hesitated but kissed you passionately. You heard a small amount of cheering coming from the car in your driveway.

“I would love to stay,” he said with vehemence. He quickly waved to the car and followed you inside, to which you heard the cheering increase. They were relentlessly adorable, you thought.

You led Spencer inside as the car drove away, leaving the two of you very much alone.


	7. Chapter 7

You were buzzing with energy as you made your way slowly up the stairs, keeping Spencer in tow behind you by his hand in yours. You could tell he was nervous by his slightly sweaty palms and loud swallows. Although you were always comfortable with him, the idea of being intimate did intimidate you a little.

But you had promised him to take it slow, and you weren’t about to dive into anything you both were not ready for.

You knew that your parents were on their way home, but it would take them a few days to get everything in order and leave. You had assured them there was no hurry since there was no danger anymore, but you did still want to see them of course. Their house felt significantly less empty with Spencer in it, but he would no doubt leave soon, and you didn’t think you could bear to live here alone until going back to school the following week for your final semester.

You arrived at your bedroom, which of course Spencer had already been in. He dropped your hand in favor of exploring the walls of your room, which had not been his priority the previous time. You let him look, changing into your clothes during which time you noticed he pointedly looked away.

Your parent’s hadn’t changed anything since college and you still lived with them in between semesters to save money. It was more or less a representation of your soul, and it was strangely more intimate that he should be looking at your things instead of your bare body.

Spencer turned suddenly and looked at you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn't’ mean to ignore you and snoop, it’s just last time I was here I didn’t have the luxury of observing.”

“And what do you think?” you asked, wondering if he was stalling any intimacy he thought might occur, and if so, why?

Spencer flicked his tongue over his lower lips and smiled.

“The abundance of band posters indicates a strong inclination for indie music, the ticket stubs show your taste in movies is broad including but not limited to mainstream, independent, and even foreign films, and your book collection indicates your strong attachment to both female authors and classic British literature. Overall the room presents an intelligent, self-aware, educated woman of eclectic, but informed taste.”

“Ah,” you smiled.

“That is exactly the kind of woman I could easily fall in love with,” he said quietly, looking down at his shoes. “If I’m not careful,” he added even softer.

“What’s life without a little risk?” you countered, blushing at his forward statement.

“Not a life at all,” he responded with a happy smile.

Spencer crossed the room and sat down on the edge of your bed, slipping off his shoes.

“Are you going to sleep in that?” you asked. There was a reason you had taken off your bra and slipped on an enormous shirt.

He looked down at his dress shirt and pants and frowned.

“I suppose not,” he answered. “But I didn’t bring my bag.”

You thought for a moment.

“I have a pair of sweatpants that might fit you,” you offered. “It’s a good thing I like ‘em baggy.”

Spencer smiled as he watched you cross the room for the sleepware. You heard him shifting and, looking back, saw he was taking off his vest and shirt, leaving only a tight white undershirt on.

You tossed him the sweatpants and he smiled, embarrassed. 

“Shall I turn my delicate eyes away, sir?” you teased. Spencer laughed.

He stood and quickly changed into the sweat pants, folding his pants along with his shirt on the floor next to the bed. He wore boxers with Superman on them.

“Superman?” you asked with a sly grin. “Didn’t take you for a comic book fan.”

“Of course,” he said, settling against your pillows as you slid back into bed next to him. 

You realized that picture of him in your head - of his being your boyfriend and waking up to his face every morning - might actually come true.

“When you’re bullied, of course you look up to superheroes… because who else is going to save you?” he gave you a sad, honest smile.

You touched his cheek with your hand.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Spencer shrugged.

“I’m not. It made me who I am. It led me to the BAU. It led me to you.”

You smiled at the sentiment.

“You know, I think you’re kind of a superhero,” you admitted.

“How so?” he looked truly confused.

“Well, you can read with super speed, you know basically everything, and you can shoot with deadly accuracy.”

“I don’t know about deadly,” he blushed. 

“So if Dr. Spencer Reid is the superhero… Who’s the secret identity? Who’s the man behind the mask?” you teased, reaching up to play with his soft curls.

“It’s a secret for a reason,” he smiled.

But there was something in his eyes… Sadness? Why?

“You can trust me,” you said sincerely, the pretense of teasing gone. He saw this sincerity and smiled, trying to hide whatever he was feeling. You didn’t press it.

Instead, you leaned in and kissed him, hoping to end whatever sadness he was feeling and replace it with you, with happiness and light.

He accepted your kiss and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you. He rolled you on top of him and you smiled into the kiss, deepening it afterwards and tasting him. You couldn’t help but pull on those intoxicating curls, eliciting a small moan from him. His hands were still resting respectfully on your lower back. You pulled away from his lips to kiss along his steep jawline. He whispered your name as you trailed your kisses along his neck, nipping every now and then, just for the fun of listening to those rumblings of moans.

Since he still had his shirt on, you merely dragged your hands along his chest as you continued downwards. You looked up at him as you arrived at the line of the sweatpants you’d given him. He was looking down at you with a mixture of admiration and wonder. You smiled, inspired by this look, to pull down the pants which had recently started to move from the pleasure you were causing.

You gently pulled down the sweatpants and his boxers to his knees, exposing him to you. He watched you carefully as you smiled at him and he sighed as if he had been afraid you would laugh. You would never have done so, even if he hadn’t been the perfect specimen of a man. You tentatively began to stroke him. You didn’t have much experience in this area, but you knew how it all generally worked, and more than anything right now, you wanted Spencer to feel good.

You stroked until he was hard and then slipped our mouth around him, lowering yourself fully onto him. You felt him arch a little to meet you as a louder moan escaped his lips. Again he said your name, a little above a whisper, which you took as encouragement.

You continued, using your tongue and even a bit of teeth when you deemed necessary, listening to the sounds that escaped him and smiling to yourself on the inside. It didn’t take too long before he was spilling into your mouth and lying beneath you in a disheveled mess.You swallowed and crawled back up to him, waiting to see what his reaction would be.

“That was…” he trailed off, his eyes closed. 

“Astounding? Breathtaking? Phenomenal?” you teased.

“Yeah, all of those,” he answered breathlessly.

You smiled, content with your work, and snuggled up beside you. He moved his legs to kick his pants and boxers all the way off and onto the floor. He started to move, you assumed to take off his shirt. He did so, but then also stayed seated, watching you carefully. You felt small under his gaze and wondered what he could be staring so intently at. Although he was of small stature, he was still masculine and lean, and you couldn’t pull your eyes from his body as he sat there.

You watched him as he seemed to be calculating something. Then, without warning, he leaned in, arms stationed on either side of you, and kissed you passionately. There was renewed vigor in him that you found intoxicating. Your head swam as he bit lightly on your lower lip. His hands began to roam your body tentatively. It seemed to him that you were made of glass or perhaps wisps of imagination, and to touch you too solidly would make you disappear.

After your few moans and encouragements, however, he became more confident, massaging your breasts and nibbling down your neck. You helped him slide your shirt over your head and discard it on the floor. He lustily drank in the sight of you and continued to disrobe you, helping you pull off your shorts and panties. Again you felt his hesitation, rather his insecurity in what to do next. You watched with a mixture of mild amusement and admiration as he descended to part your legs.

You threw your head back and felt his tongue make its way into your folds. You focused on the sensation, closing your eyes and trying to to writhe too much beneath him. After a moment, it seemed like a familiar pattern. You were distracted, trying to figure out what it was.   
“Are you… spelling my name with your tongue?” you asked through a smile and heavy breathing.

Spencer looked up from between your legs and looked surprised.

“Maybe?” he looked guiltily. “Is it working? I read in a book one time that--”

“It’s working,” you assured him, ready for him to stop talking.

Spencer smirked and continued, as you felt the pressure inside you build.

You came quickly after that, rolling in the explosions you felt inside you. When you finally opened your eyes, you found Spencer had positioned himself beside you, laying on his side to watch you.

“Spectacular? Extraordinary? Incredible?” Spencer jested. 

You rolled over to face him and grinned.

“Where did you learn to do that?” you asked. 

Spencer blushed.

“I did actually read a book.”

“About how to have sex?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Not that I thought it would ever be incredibly useful… I just thought it might help me relate to people more,” he said honestly.

“I imagine it is kind of hard for you, isn’t it?”  you asked, moving in to kiss his cheek. You never wanted him to feel left out or different. You wanted to make him feel loved and accepted.

“There are these pauses sometimes,” he explained. “After I speak… And I’m never quite sure why. But I’ll say something and the team just stops, looks at me for a moment, and then continues. It’s baffling,” he mused.

“I’d imagine they’re impressed with whatever you said,” you explained.

Spencer shrugged.

“Maybe.” He seemed sad again. 

You watched him carefully and then shyly asked, “Do you feel like you relate to me?”

He met your gaze in the next second and responded, “Yes. More so than anyone.”

You smiled at this, glad to have the feeling mutual.

“Good,” you said, snuggling up to him more. 

Suddenly a wave of exhaustion hit you and you felt heavy.

“Sleep now?” you asked, feeling your drooping lids hard to ignore despite the perfect image before you.

“Sleep now,” Spencer repeated, kissing the top of your head.

You fell asleep and dreamt peacefully. When you woke, it was to Spencer’s body wrapped around yours, pressing you tightly to his chest. You stretched and felt him move behind you, waking slowly.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice gravelly with sleep.

You turned to see that Spencer’s hair was in complete disarray, with curls flying everywhere. He blinked sleepily at you and smiled.

“Morning,” you laughed. “Breakfast?”

Spencer nodded, but when you tried to get out of bed, pulled you back to him.

“I can’t really make it from here,” you noted.

Spencer grumbled incoherently. You stood and looked around for something to wear. Smiling, you grabbed his button up shirt from the ground and put it on, buttoning it enough to stay on. It covered you down to your mid thigh. Spencer’s eyes lit up when he saw you.

“You should wear that all the time,” he muttered, still half asleep.

You laughed and watched as he put on the sweatpants he had worn last night. Images of the evening flashed through your mind and you felt giddy inside.

Taking his hand, you led him down to the kitchen. You could barely get the milk without him either grabbing you gently to kiss you, or else hanging off of you, just keeping in constant contact.

Somehow you managed to make pancakes for the two of you, and persuaded him to sit down next to you to eat them.

It was so domestic and picturesque, you never wanted it to end. Your bubble, however, was burst by Spencer’s phone going off. It was a text. He read it quickly and his face promptly turned white and slackened a bit.

“What is it?” you asked, part of you already knowing.

“Hotch,” he said calmly. “There’s been two child abductions in Montana. We have to leave in a few hours.”

You dropped your fork.

“A few hours?” you asked. You checked yourself, realizing how desperate you had sounded. “That’s very soon,” you tried to make your voice calm.

“It is,” Spencer agreed grimly.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked.

“Depends,” he admitted, looking guiltily at you.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “You go be a superhero and I’ll go back to school. The semester begins next week anyway,” you informed him.

Spencer nodded. The two of you finished your breakfast hastily and waited outside for Spencer’s ride. He had let you keep his shirt, but you’d changed into your own clothes to see him off in front of the agents. 

The black SUV pulled into the driveway and while you were happy to see the riders, you were unhappy they would be leaving, and with Spencer, so soon. They rolled down the windows to wave and say hello, but there really wasn’t any time to chat, nor upon hearing the news of the missing children was anyone in the mood to.

Spencer pulled you in for a lingering kiss, reminding you how much you would miss his lips, his smell, his everything while he was away. You had always enjoyed time on your own, but now you would like anything but that.

You watched as he walked towards the SUV, turning back only once to give you a wave. And then you watched as your heart went away to Montana.


	8. Chapter 8

You felt jilted that you didn’t have more time with Spencer before he left for his first case. You knew going in that it would be like this, but you didn’t think it would happen  _ immediately.  _

Your parents had arrived home the day after Spencer left and you had a lot to fill them in on. They were supportive, but wary that you should be dating someone in such a high risk job. You assured them that he was not in much danger; he himself had said his job was mostly talking. You left out a lot of details about your abduction, making it seem less awful than it was. They were just relieved to have you home for a few days before you had to return to school. They offered to have an alarm system installed where you were living off campus, to which you readily agreed. The roommate you were supposed to have had dropped out, so you were living by yourself for the semester. That was both good and bad of course, but nonetheless you were grateful for their offer to make you feel safer while Spencer was away.

You finally moved into the place you’d be staying for the semester while at school in New York. Your schedule proved to be pretty full, but you were able to schedule the classes so they were only Monday-Wednesday, giving you a four day weekend to do all the reading and writing the classes required.

It was hard getting back into the swing of things. Right after Spencer had left for the case, you could text, call, and Skype him whenever you wanted. He always seemed tired and stressed, but by the end of your calls you had brought at least one smile to his face, and if you were lucky, a laugh. Once classes started, though, with class work and class itself, it was harder. You made it work though, trying to schedule times that would work.

The case was not an easy one. There were only a few leads and Spencer felt the weight of the two children’s lives resting on his shoulders.

You were finishing up in a class the second week away from him, when you got a text from Morgan.

_ Hey, (Y/N), when you get a chance, call Reid. We really need his big brain on this case and you seem to be the one who can refocus him for that. Thanks - Morgan _

You texted back that you would call him after class and Morgan thanked you. True to your word, you called him on your walk back to your apartment.

“Hi,” he answered tiredly when you called. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you answered. “How are  _ you _ ?”

He sighed heavily.

“Did Morgan call you?” he guessed.

“Texted,” you admitted.

“I’m fine,” he promised unconvincingly.

“Uh-huh,” you answered. “How’s the case?”

“It’s awful… It’s… I should be able to do more… to see more, there’s just something I’m missing and I can’t--”

“Hey,” you stopped him. “Breathe.”

“This is my tenth breath this minute,” Spencer responded. “That’s all I’m doing is breathing. I can’t do anything useful.”

“That’s not true and you know it. You’re a superhero. What do superheroes do when they’re stressed?” you tried.

“They don’t get stressed,” he sighed.

“Are you kidding me?” you laughed. “Do you think it’s easy to have the weight of the world on your shoulders? Do you think Superman wasn’t stressed when Lex Luther had Lois Lane? Or when the Joker threatened to blow up Gotham? You bet your ass those guys were breathing hard. But what did they do?” you asked. There was a slight pause.

“They did it anyway,” he answered grudgingly. Then he sighed again and added, “And I can too?”

“Yes, you can too, Spencer. I know you can do it.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Now tell me something good,” you offered, trying to get him feeling a little better.

He hummed for a moment.

“I had a danish for breakfast this morning,” he tried.

“Excellent! What kind?”

“Cheese,” he said, you could hear the smile forming on his lips. 

“Good,” you replied, happy to have distracted and refocused him for a moment at least.

“I should get going,” he said.

“I know,” you didn’t want to hang up.

“I miss you,” he said sadly.

“Catch that kidnapper and come back to me,” you said, feeling the weight on your heart.

“I will,” he said with vigor.

You said your goodbyes just as you reached your apartment. As you walked inside, you felt your phone buzz. Morgan again.

_ He’s already onto something, thanks. - M _

You smiled, glad to be of some assistance. You wondered why this particular case would be so close to him, why it would affect him so much. Perhaps he just had a fondness for children, but you thought it might have been something more.

A few days passed where both you and Spencer were very busy and didn’t get the chance to say more than a good morning or a goodnight. On the third Wednesday night that you were apart, you got a call from him as you were leaving class.

“Hello, lover,” you smiled.

“We got them!” Spencer exclaimed.

“Them?” you asked. 

“Yes! That’s what I was missing. It was a partnership, a couple. And I have you to thank for it,” he added.

“Me?”

“Yes. Right after you called, I was thinking about Clark and Lois and for some reason, and something just clicked.”

“I’m glad to be of service,” you laughed. “So you’re coming home?”

“Not yet,” Spencer grumbled. “It turns out that these two have done this many times before. The station’s system is undergoing maintenance so we have to stay here and manually go through missing children files to see if there’s any that fit the profile of the couple that took the last few. It’s menial, but they need us here.”

Your spirits, once lifted, were easily deflated.

“I’m sorry,” he added.

“It’s not your fault,” you answered, but you still felt down.

“But I’ll be back next week… And then maybe I can come see you?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’d like that a lot. Maybe you can help me with all the reading I have to do,” you laughed, envying his super speed.

“Always willing to use my powers for a good cause,” he joked. “I should get back to going through the files,” he added.

“Yeah, go save the world, Super Spencer,” you said.

“But you’re already safe,” he said. 

Before you could respond he had said a quick goodbye and hung up. The blush on your cheeks so warm you could almost feel the heat rising off them.

The moment you got inside you texted Morgan.

_ I’m coming out to surprise him. You in? _

A moment later you got a response.

_ Let me know what time the flight gets in. _

Impulsively, with your four day weekend ahead of you, you went inside and booked the next flight out to Montana. It happened to be a red eye that evening. You packed a few clothes, the books you needed for school, and basic necessity items. You got a taxi to the airport and waited to board. Once on the plane, you looked at your phone. It was a Skype call from Spencer.

Shit, you thought. Can’t ruin the surprise, and can’t raise suspicion by not answering when he knew you were free. You held the phone close to your face so he couldn’t see what was surrounding you. You plugged in your headphones and held the mic as far away from the noise of the other passengers as you could.

You answered the call.

“Hey,” you nearly laughed from nervousness. Spencer eyed the closeness of your face and raised an eyebrow.

“Hi,” he smiled. “Where are you?”

You thought quickly and lied.

“Um… bathroom,” you admitted, laughing a little.

“Oh,” he blushed. “I can call back later.”

“Yeah, that’d be good, but I think I’m going to bed right after, I don’t feel too well. Should I just see you -- talk to you tomorrow?” you tried not to show that you had slipped verbs.

“Of course, whatever you need; feel better,” he he said before signing off the call.

You breathed a sigh of relief, despite the questioning glances from those around you.

The plane ride was over quickly, mostly because you slept through most of it. When you woke up, you were pretty much there. It was morning, as you had left late in the night. You felt a little tired, but grateful that you’d slept on the plane.

When you turned your phone back on, there was a text from Spencer. He wished you a good morning and wanted to know how you were feeling. You didn’t respond, as you’d be seeing him shortly.

You texted Morgan saying that you had just landed and he promised to pick you up in a half hour. As you waited by the curb, you realized just how crazy this was. You had only known Spencer for a little while, and yet here you were, crossing nearly the entire country just for a chance to see him for a few days. It felt crazy, but in a good way.

Morgan pulled up in a black SUV almost identical to the one he had had on the east coast. He rolled the window down and motioned for you to come in. You only had a small bag with you so you laid it in the back seat and got into the passenger’s side. He leaned over for a friendly hug and peck on the cheek. Already you felt like he was your older brother, and it was nice to have him like you and encourage your and Spencer’s relationship.

“You look good,” Morgan accounted, “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you said. “Well, not great… But hopefully I will be soon,” you smiled.

“Right, right,” he grinned. “Listen, thank you for all your help,” he said.

“It was nothing,” you replied honestly.

“I wasn’t nothing. Before you, it took a lot of prodding for Reid to open up and talk about what was wrong so we could get his head out of whatever rut it was he was stuck in and get on with the case… But one call from you was all he needed when he got stuck. And from what I could tell, it wasn’t even pushing him to do anything. It was just talking. You have a gift.”

You shrugged and blushed.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same,” you quoted.

“You can say that again,” Morgan smiled. 

He drove quickly back to the police station where the team was stationed.

“Hey, I was supposed to be out getting food, at least to Reid anyway, so it’s your fault if he’s still hungry,” he teased.

“I think I can handle it,” you smiled. “So what’s the plan? Do I jump out of a cake or what?”

Morgan laughed. “I was thinking maybe just hiding in the break room and surprising him there?”

“Less dramatic, but I suppose it will do,” you laughed.

Penelope met you outside, on the side of the building.

“Hi!” she squealed, hugging you tightly. You nearly choked, her hold was so tight, but she soon let go. “This is so romantic,” he smiled. “Why don’t you ever do these things for me, Chocolate Thunder?” she poked Morgan.

“We’re always together, mama,” he responded smoothly.

“True,” she conceded. “Reid’s in the conference room buried in files right now, I just left him,” she informed you.

“I’ll take her to the break room and then lure Reid in there,” Morgan decided.

“How are you going to lure him?” you asked.

“I have my ways,” his eyebrows danced as he smirked and walked into the building, motioning for you to follow him.

You felt like a child for a minute, sneaking around, hiding. You caught a glimpse of Spencer’s head through a window into the conference room and your heart lept. You almost said to hell with the surprise and rushed in right then to kiss him senseless. 

You managed to tug your attention away and follow Morgan into the break room. The room had a short little L shape to it, so you decided to hide against the wall, waiting for Spencer to come in and turn the corner.

Morgan left you with a large grin on his face and you heard him yell, “Hey, Pretty Boy!” as he walked off to lure Spencer.

You waited by yourself for a few moments, your whole body buzzing with excitement. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw you. For a split second you worried he might not want you here. He still had work to do. Was this a mistake to come and distract him?

All your thoughts went away as you heard Spencer’s voice in the hall outside.

“I hardly think they would have a signed picture of Houdini in a police station,” you heard Spencer say. You tried not to laugh at Morgan’s rouse. 

“Just go check, I swear it’s in there,” Morgan’s voice contained hints of laughter.

Spencer walked right into the room, right past you and looked around slowly for the picture he was supposed to be seeing. You waited patiently as he looked around the room, scanning it, until he turned and saw you.

At first his face was blank, he blinked, and then a grin wider than Montana itself spread across his face.

He nearly screamed your name as he rushed towards you, taking you in his arms. He swung you around as you laughed at his happiness. When you landed, he pushed back the hair that had fallen in your face, and kissed you. You felt all the longing and absence of the past few weeks spilling into the kiss, making up for lost time. You held him close to you and tangled your fingers in his hair. Gosh, how you’d missed that hair.

“Surprise,” you grinned when you finally parted for air.

“How did you… Morgan,” he smiled, looking back towards the door. Morgan came into the room.

“Guilty,” he held his hands up in defense.

Spencer laughed, a sound that clearly was alien to Morgan, at least in the past few weeks, and you saw his quick appreciative glance at you for making it happen.

Morgan was followed by Penelope, JJ, and Hotch, who filed in to greet you. After catching up for a few moment, you realized they should probably get back to work.

“You guys go, do your thing, I’ll just hang out and--” you trailed off for a moment.

“You can come with me!” Penelope offered. “I’m not a profiler, and there’s no computer system to compile any horribleness on, so I’m free. We’ll go get coffee and chat while the Scoobies finish up their day here,” she offered with a bright smile.

You felt Spencer’s arm around your waist and wished more than anything you could stay there, but you knew he needed to work, bring closure to some other families, and so you accepted the offer.

You found Penelope incredibly charming and intelligent. Over coffee you discussed your love of TV shows and movies, which you found you had a lot in common. She was so passionate and excited about everything, it made you smile. The time away from Spencer wasn’t long, and you returned to the police station in an hour. They still had a few hours of work left, but you didn’t want to just go back to the hotel and wait for him. You stationed yourself next to him in the conference room. He had been so into the case file, he hadn’t noticed you had sat down until you took his hand in yours.

“Hey,” he smiled, seeming relieved. “How was coffee?”

“Fun,” you replied happily. “How’s the cases?”

“Four connected so far,” he frowned, implying they had not ended well for the children.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But at least the families will know now. Thanks to you.”

He gave a sad smile and nodded. 

“What are you gonna--”

You pulled out a book from your purse.

“Oh,” he smiled. “Okay. We can leave in a few hours.”

“Take your time,” you assured him.

You opened up your book and became lost in it. Occasionally you would squeeze his hand, or he yours, just to remind each other that you were still there. Even though you weren’t talking, or even looking at each other, just being in his presence was enough to bestow a calmness that you hadn’t realized was missing since he left.

After you had gotten nearly two-thirds of the way through your book, Spencer spoke.

“Ready to head out?” he asked. 

You glanced up from your book to see his tired eyes.

“Sure,” you smiled.

Hotch leaned into the room just then and addressed the two of you.

“We’re going out for food, would you like to join us?” he asked.

You looked at Spencer who nodded to you.

“We’re in,” you decided.

The team went to a nice-looking Italian place not far from the station. They were all tired, but glad that the subject was caught and the children were returned. The conversation stayed on light topics. They asked you about how school was going and what you were looking to do when the semester ended.

“I thought I might take a part time job and just… write,” you admitted, feeling slightly foolish at your far-stretching dreams.

“I didn’t know you wanted to write,” Spencer smiled.

“Poems? Songs? Novels?” Penelope asked.

“Novels,” you said. “Well, one anyway, to start with,” you blushed.

They all seemed genuinely interested in your ambitions and it made you feel less childish about it. 

“No cabin in the middle of the woods, I hope,” Hotch asked.

“No,” you laughed. “I’m not a philosopher. A laptop and some coffee is all I need.”

“What would the novel be about?” Spencer asked.

“That’s a very good question,” you answered. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Inspiration is everywhere,” JJ assured you. “I’m sure you’ll find something.”

You nodded your thanks and smiled. It wasn’t only that they were being nice to you for Spencer’s sake, they seemed to genuinely like and want the best for you. 

After leaving the restaurant, you went to your hotel and checked in for the night. It was tempting to stay with Spencer, but he was sharing a room with Morgan and you didn’t want to impose, plus you figured he needed the sleep. You found you did as well as you nearly collapsed from the wear of travelling. 

The following day mostly consisted of your reading and doing assignments for school next to Spencer as he sorted through folder after folder of missing children. Every time you looked at the pile, your stomach sank, thinking of all those kids. And that was just in Montana. You wondered how he could walk down such dark paths and somehow find his way back to the light.

“You okay?” Spencer asked, noticing your staring at the piles.

“Yeah,” you said, realizing what you were doing. 

“Want to go for a walk?” he suggested.

You nodded and followed him outside into the fresh air. It was actually a nice day outside, and almost made you forget the atrocities that lay on the desk in the conference room. The streets were surprisingly populated for a weekday afternoon. Store vendors had people out front giving out samples, and many people seemed to be window shopping. 

You walked with Spencer, feeling the sunshine on your face. As you approached a restaurant, a handsome man with meat samples stepped out to greet you. As he smiled, you felt Spencer’s hand instantly grab yours, intertwining his fingers with yours possessively. 

The man glanced down at your hands and you saw his smile drop a little.

“Free sample?” he asked.

“Sure,” you smiled, picking up the sample with your free hand. It was good, but you had no intention of eating there, so you moved along.

You walked and talked easily with Spencer, almost forgetting again the reason why you had come to visit, and why he was here. Walking towards you was an older man. You could feel his gaze on you, something you were unfortunately used to as a woman. You shifted uncomfortably, but Spencer put his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him and kissing the top of your head. It was as if he was trying to ward off these men from even looking at you. It was strangely attractive that he wanted to essentially mark you as his own in his own passive aggressive way.

“You know, you don’t have to do that,” you smiled once the man had passed, having averted his eyes as Spencer’s arm encircled your waist.

“Do what?” he asked honestly.

“Show other guys that I’m taken. I’m not going anywhere,” you promised.

He looked down at you, surprised.

“Was I?” he asked. He thought about it and nodded. “I suppose I see where you came up with that idea,” he admitted.

“I mean, I’m not complaining. I’ll take your hand any time. I’m just saying, there’s no reason to be concerned.”

He looked deep in thought for a moment.

“I guess I just… I’ve never had something like this, and it feels like pretty much anyone could come and take you away,” he smiled like he was embarrassed, but you wondered if it was to hide pain.

“No one’s taking me anywhere. I do what I want with whom I want. And I want you.”

He stopped for a moment to analyze your features. It seemed as though he were searching for a lie. It hurt a little that he did not trust you on this, but you let him search, knowing he would find no deception.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

You pulled him in for a kiss.

“Alright,” he smiled after you stole his breath away.

You continued your pleasant walk until you saw a bookstore. It was so quaint and lovely, Spencer could practically hear your brain salivating. He didn’t need convincing and followed you into the store. You wandered around, leaving him to follow you with a smile on his face. While you were perusing the new fiction, he was at the table behind you looking at the chemistry textbooks in the school section. You heard him speak, although it was not directed at you, and turned to see him. The school section was only a few feet away so you could hear and see him clearly. He was talking to a young woman that worked at the store. You pretended not to eavesdrop and faked reading the back of your book.

“So you’re a chemistry student?” the girl asked. You glanced up and noticed she was rather pretty. It was petty and foolish, but you were already jealous.

“I actually have my PhD in Chemistry along with Math and Engineering,” Spencer explained.

The girl looked impressed.

“I’m going to school for Chemistry right now,” she said, playing with her hair.

Spencer simply nodded and smiled at her but said nothing. She filled the gap by asking if he’d heard of a recent discovery in the field, using words that you had little to no idea what they meant. You watched as his face lit up and he rattled off even more sciencey words that made no sense. He talked animatedly with her for a few moments more before you couldn’t help it. You walked over and slipped your hand into his, kissing his cheek. Your childish action got the reaction you wanted. The girl’s smile dropped and she took a subconscious step backwards. A small, petty victory for you.

“Hi,” Spencer greeted. “Did you find anything?” 

You still had the book from before in your hand so you showed it to him. He smiled.

“Should we get going then?” he asked. You figured he had to get back to work anyhow.

“Sure,” you said.

You bought the book and walked out with Spencer, having not let go of his hand since you grabbed it. He walked next to you, looking down more often at you than you were used to.

“What?” you asked sheepishly.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It’s just… you grabbed my hand back there.”

“Is that not allowed?” you deflected.

“Were you… threatened by her?” he sounded almost proud of it.

You scoffed but it convinced no one.

“No,” you laughed..

“You’re lying,” he detected.

You sighed, feeling the words bubble up inside and spill out.

“You seemed to just be having a great time with her talking about all that science stuff… And I can’t really do that with you. It’s a huge part of your life and your interests and I don’t know… It feel insignificant in that department.”

“Science isn’t all of my interests,” he reasoned. “We have a lot in common.”

“But mostly literature,” you pointed out. “And that’s… it seems less important sometimes. Science is what makes the world go round.”

He stopped you then and pulled you to the side of the sidewalk. 

“Stories are what make the world go round,” he countered. He looked at your unconvinced countenance and continued. “Scientists may explain the world, discover the world, but writers  _ create _ them. Scientists might study humans, but writers bring them to  _ life. _ There is far more power in story than you think,” he said seriously.

“So… I’m not… not enough?” you asked. There had been insecurities about your intelligence compared to his under the surface since the beginning for you, but just to see it even on a marginal scale was uncomfortable. 

“Never,” he said, pulling you close to him. “When you quote literature, or say something meaningful or beautiful, it connects with people, they stop and think for a moment. When I give them statistics they just accept it. I think connecting with people is far more important, and you have that gift.”

You felt quite honored that he saw you this way and felt even more foolish for your jealousy.

“That was beautiful,” you said, blushing.

He kissed you lightly before you began your walk back to the station. He returned to sifting through his files and you returned to your homework. You still had two more days before you had to go back to school so you hoped you would be able to spend more time with him outside the police force. Something told you that a life with Spencer meant a few weekends like this, however, and you hoped that was something you could get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the "whatever our souls are made of" quote is from Wuthering Heights in case you were wondering!


	9. Chapter 9

The following evening, your last night in Montana before going back for school, was as uneventful as the others. You got to see Spencer during the day, even though he had to focus on working, and at night he came to your hotel room, much to the teasing of the team. You had kissed and fooled around a little, but after the long day of looking into cases of lost children, it hadn’t exactly put either of you  in the mood. You were content to snuggle up next to him, letting him wrap himself around you and hold you tight. You wanted to remember how this felt - how your body aligned with his perfectly, how he nuzzled your neck and planted soft kisses on your skin, how his hand tentatively stroked the skin right below your navel.

On the Sunday you had booked your flight, he stood with you at the gate. The team had had to stay behind and finish working, but they’d allowed him to drive you to the airport to see you off. He still had a few days in Montana before they returned. 

He held you close and whispered, “I would I were thy bird.”

You smiled, having just read Shakespeare again for school that week.

“Sweet, so would I, yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,” you finished the quote.

He held you close, your forehead nearly resting against his, as you heard the last call for boarding.

“Call me when you land?” he asked.

“Of course,” you promised.

You kissed him and were barely able to pull yourself away to board the plane. Grudgingly, you did so, and waved goodbye to a very forlorn Spencer Reid.

You couldn’t sleep on the ride back and so contented yourself with alternating between music and reading. Faithfully, you called Spencer when you landed. You spoke briefly before both of you were pulled away to your respective worlds and coasts.

Most of the semester passed with phone calls, texts, and skype. Spencer had a few cases in various areas, but none of them close to you, and you didn’t have the money or time to visit him again on a case. The only thing saving you from longing after him endlessly was your copious amounts of research and studying for your finals. The senioritis was even stronger than your undergrad case had been, and it was hard to focus, but you made yourself do it, if not for the grade, than for something to focus on that didn’t make your heart ache.

The times you talked and video called Spencer were the highlights of the day. He often couldn’t do it every day, and neither could you, but when it worked out, it made it worth it. It was mostly at night, alone in your bed, that you missed him. You realized that you hadn’t been completely intimate with him yet and at this time you wondered if it would ever happen. You didn’t want your first real time with Spencer to be in some hotel while he was on a case. It would have to be when you were both completely focused on each other. 

When the week of finals at last came around, Spencer could tell you were stressed. Usually you were the one trying to calm him down as he faced darkness and danger, but this time he was trying to convince you that there was in fact a world outside the library, and he would very much like to see you survive the week to see it.

You trudged through the week, writing papers and taking tests like a machine. You lived on coffee, tea, and fast food. You were a hot mess by the end of it all. You’d called Spencer to tell him that at last that you’d finished your last final. You were walking out of the classroom as you started dialing. Walking down the short hallway, you listened to the ringing, wondering what was taking so long for him to pick up. You reached the doors and pushed them open, hearing a ringing sound once you did so.

Looking up, you saw the source of the ringing. Standing there with a nervous smile on his face, and a rose in his outstretched hand, Spencer stood waiting for you. You hung up the phone and gasped in surprise.

“Congratulations,” he smiled. 

A few students followed you out of the doors and stopped beside you, seeing what you were looking at. A few girls “awwed” as you ran down the steps to meet Spencer. He hugged you and swung you around in his arms as you laughed, letting all the stress of finals fall off you like chunks of ice.

“I thought you were on a case until tomorrow!” you exclaimed.

“You’re not the only one who can deceive for a surprise visit,” he smirked.

“It’s getting dark, should we go back to my place?” you offered, noting the setting sun.

“Actually, I had something else in mind,” he smiled mischievously. 

You eyed him warily, but allowed him to lead you away from the school and towards a local park. It was still warm, despite the sun having set, and you were comfortable in your jeans and t-shirt.

Spencer led you by the hand for a while but then stopped by the edge of the park. He slipped his hand into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

“Are you going to be doing a magic trick?” you teased.

“Not at the moment,” he said, untangling his hand from yours. “Do you trust me?” he asked, holding the cloth up by your eyes. He meant to blindfold you.   
“With my life,” you responded.

He motioned for you to turn around, and you did so. He tied the handkerchief around your head, and took your hand again. He led you slowly down a path and turned to the right. After a few moments he stopped and let go of your hand.

“Ready?” he asked.

Your heart was beating fast with anticipation.

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly.

You felt his hands shake as he removed the cloth from your eyes. You blinked to adjust, and took in the breathtaking sight before you. In a small grove of the park, Spencer had strung white lights along the trunk and branches of each tree. They glimmered in the darkness of the evening and illuminated the blanket, candles, and dinner he had prepared. You couldn’t speak or form any coherent thoughts. You had one hundred percent expected to go home and binge watch Netflix after this final. This was… something else to say the least.

Spencer was studying your face nervously, wringing the cloth in his hands

“D-Do you like it?” he asked hesitantly when you hadn’t spoken for nearly a minute.

You turned with your gaping expression to him and smiled.

“You did all this?” you asked. He nodded, biting his lip in anticipation. “I love it!” you told him.

He sighed and smiled in relief, having for some reason convinced himself it was stupid or cliche. You pulled him by the shirt collar and kissed him senseless.

“I should do this more often,” Spencer breathed, once you let him go. His eyes were still closed and his face was flushed. 

You laughed and he led you to the picnic. The two of you sat down and he laid out the dinner he had prepared. It was a  _ penne ala vodka, _ garnished and arranged as if made by a professional chef. He poured two glasses of wine, and you took yours happily.

“You prepared this yourself?” you asked, tasting the rich flavors and noticing the artisanship.

“I had a good teacher once,” Spencer answered, looking suddenly sad.

“I’ll say,” you said, not wanting to inquire into whatever sad fate had become of that teacher.

The two of you ate and talked easily, discussing mostly your week of hell that had been finals. Once you had finished the pasta, and two glasses of wine, you placed the dinner aside. Spencer laid down on his back on the blanket and you snuggled up to his chest. You looked at the light-strewn trees and smiled, content.

The stars had come out and through the clear night sky, you could see quite a few constellations.

“The stars are beautiful,” you remarked. 

“ We who are tied to earth see only part/Which seems confusion: when the unbound heart/Gets into higher place, then more is seen/Among the stars, we'll see what earth doth mean,” Spencer whispered, seemingly to himself.

“Tennyson?” you guessed.

He startled beneath you slightly, apparently unaware that his words had been spoken outloud.

“Um, Leighton,” he answered. “It’s a good poem. He goes on to talk about light and darkness and how light can illuminate our souls.”

You mused on this for a few moments, your mind happy and warm from the wine.

“I’d imagine you are quite often immersed in darkness,” you wondered out loud. 

“Almost insufferably,” he admitted, keeping his eyes on the stars. 

His lip seemed to be trembling a little. You hadn’t meant to ruin a nice evening by talk of serious matters, but it seemed like he needed to talk about it. You tried not to pressure him, keeping your gaze on the stars and letting him talk freely. “Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing good in the world anymore,” he spoke softly. “Sometimes it seems like we’re not even making a difference. We stop one person and three more take their place.”

“The world is full of trickery/But let this not blind you to what virtue there is/many persons strive for high ideals/and everywhere life is full of heroism,” you quoted to him.

“‘Desiderata,’” he smiled.

“If there weren’t villains, there wouldn’t be superheroes,” you reasoned. 

“If I wasn’t a superhero we could do this all the time,” Spencer said morosely. 

“I know,” you admitted. 

He shifted slightly beneath you and you moved, seeing that he was trying to sit up. He crossed his legs and faced you. You mirrored his position. It looked like he gearing up to something exciting, although you had no idea what you could have inspired. 

“What if we could see each other as much as possible?” he asked.

“I thought that’s what we were doing,” you laughed.

He looked down at the blanket and smiled.

“I mean… W-what if I came home… a-and it was your home too?” he said, not meeting your gaze.

The phrasing took you a moment to understand.

“You mean like… live together?” you asked, smiling.

“I mean, we don’t have to. Statistically, 75% of couples don’t decide to live together until they’ve been together for--”

“Let’s do it,” you interrupted. 

You knew it hadn’t been long, but living with Spencer was something that made a lot of sense, especially with the nature of his job. Now instead of coming home and then flying or driving to see you, he would just have to open the front door. The idea was intoxicating.

“Really?” Spencer finally looked up at you, his eyes full of joy.

“Why not?” you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. “It’s not like novel-writing requires a specific area, and I can freelance or find a part time job anywhere,” you reasoned, getting more and more excited. “And then we can be together as much as possible when you’re home,” you grew more and more excited as you saw the smile spreading across his face.

“I’ve never done anything this impulsive,” he laughed. “I hadn’t planned on asking you.”

“Impulsive suits you,” you grinned.

Everything inside you wanted to move in with Spencer immediately. Seeing as that was impossible, and it was getting late, you opted to clean up the spread and head back to your apartment.

Once in your apartment, you turned on the lights, collapsing into the couch. It had been an amazing day, and you were still in awe of everything that had happened. Spencer plopped down beside you and watched you for a moment. You crawled into his lap and snuggled against his neck.

“Thank you for today,” you kissed his jawline. 

“My pleasure,” he responded. 

You continued kissing his jawline, following up to meet his lips. It was amusing how he still seemed a little startled when you kissed him, like he had forgotten that was too good to be part of the deal.

He soon relaxed, however, and you moved to straddle his lap while your tongues played in each others mouths. Your hands tangled in his hair and pulled lightly, eliciting a small moan from him. You started to grind your hips against him as his hands moved to your lower back to guide your movements. You were both breathing hard, starting to get into a rhythm already. You felt too constrained in your clothes. You wanted to be closer to this man who was so wonderful to you. 

Breaking the kiss, you made to remove your shirt. Although he had seen you naked a few times, Spencer still looked in awe of your body. You smirked at this power over him as you removed your bra. It was fun to reduce this genious to a regular, drooling man sometimes. He smoothed his hands over your newly exposed skin as you leaned in to resume your kiss. His hands found their way down your breasts and around to your rear. Before you knew it, he had lifted you up, and you had wrapped your legs around him. You smiled into the kiss as he walked, nearly blindly, to your bedroom. You were surprised at his strength, and even more turned on. He laid you on the bed and rid himself of his shirt, quickly doing so in order to resume kissing you as soon as possible. You both rid yourself of your clothes below the waist and you felt your head start to spin with the intensity of the kiss.

Through the haze you somehow managed to remember the condoms you had put in your bedside table should something like this ever occur. You blindly reached for them and Spencer helped you, finding and opening the protection easily. Once you were ready to go, you laid down on your back and looked up at Spencer. He was hovering about you, stationed between your thighs, waiting for your consent.

“Are you… ready?” he asked with a small smile. 

You consented and he kissed you. You helped guide his hips and felt the pressure as he entered you. You watched as his face expanded into absolute pleasure. He shuddered pleasurably minutely and let out a small moan. When his eyes returned to your face, he licked his lips and kissed you again, sliding completely inside you. 

Although it hurt a little, you adjusted to him quickly and felt the pleasure start to take over. His shaking hips and nervousness soon subsided after a few thrusts and you became completely in sync. You started to meet his thrusts with your hips, causing you both to moan with pleasure. Feeling the tension starting to build, you knew you were close. You were sure by his breathing and pace, that he was too. Before you could say anything more than his name, you were falling over the edge of oblivion. You managed to keep your eyes open to watch his face as his orgasm took him. It was the most beautiful sight, and you were glad to have been the cause of it.

“Je t‘aime,” Spencer breathed as he came down from his high. You wondered if he’d even known he’d said it, or the fact that he’d said in French. 

“I love you too,” you whispered before kissing him. Upon pulling back, you saw that he indeed had not been aware he had spoken. You watched as the realization spread across his face, followed swiftly by a widespread grin. 

He pulled out of you and laid beside you after disposing of the condom. You snuggled close to him.

“Why French?” you asked, amused.

“That just happened to be the language I thought it in first,” he explained with a laugh. “It is the language of love,” he added. “Do you know French?”

“Only a few phrases,” you admitted. 

“I wanted to say it a long time ago,” he admitted, showing you a shy smile. 

“Me too,” you confessed. 

You traced patterns with your finger against his chest.

“That’s not how I planned to tell you,” he said.

“You had it planned?” you smiled. 

“Yes,” he admitted.

“What were you going to do?” you asked.

“Well, we would be have been together somewhere, I wasn’t sure where, but I would have held you and quoted, ‘I fear/no fate, for you are my fate,my sweet/I want no world, for beautiful you are my world, my true/and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant/and whatever a sun will always sing is you.”

“I carry you in my heart,” you recollected. The E. E. Cummings poem was one of your favorites. “You always know what to say,” you laughed.

“Actually, it’s quite the contrary. It’s because I never know what to say that I steal the words of others.”

“Why would you never know what to say?” you asked.

He looked at you a moment in thought.

“Because no words ever seem to be good enough,” he said. “They never seem sufficient.”

“You could say nothing and it would be more than enough,” you answered honestly, snuggling closer to him.

He kissed the top of your head and remained silent. You wondered what he was thinking and hoped it was similar to your thought: you had never been happier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I stretched the meaning of that Leighton poem to suit my dialogue needs, my apologies.  
> * I also couldn't bring myself not to capitalize the E. E. Cummings poem since it was dialogue and not the actual poem, I beg forgiveness.   
> * I also hope I'm not making too many references and/or that they're not annoying  
> * Thanks for the kudos <3


	10. Chapter 10

Despite your overwhelming enthusiasm to move in the exact next minute Spencer had asked you, he persuaded you to wait until after graduation. You found he had two motives for this: it would both give you time to collect your things and do some spring cleaning as well as give him time to make some space for you, but it would also allow him to meet your parents at your graduation and tell them that you were moving in together face to face.

With the small blessing of no psychopaths being active for the week leading up until graduation, Spencer stayed with you in your apartment. In a way it was like living together already. You found you worked well together. You both knew when you needed space, time to be apart, and you would fall together and hang out when you felt like it. Everything was so natural, you truly were on the same frequency as him. 

The night before graduation, you were hanging up your cap and gown. You’d already done this for undergraduate school, but your parents had insisted upon you walking for your Master’s. Sighing, you tapped the tassel on the hat, making it swing. Suddenly, two arms were encircling your waist and a familiar chest was pressing against your back.

“What are you thinking?” Spencer asked.

You decided there was no point in lying, he would just know.

“I’m thinking that I’m my age and only have a Master’s. You’re not much older than me and have way more than double that amount of degrees,” you tried not to sound too whiny.

“I also probably had more than double the amount of wedgies,” he laughed.

You turned to face him, keeping your bodies close.

“It just makes me feel slow sometimes,” you admitted. 

“I don’t think you’re slow,” Spencer answered seriously. “I think,” he kissed you, “That you,” another kiss, “Are,” a little nip on your lower lip, “Brilliant,” he finished with a languid, longing kiss that sent your head spinning.

“Are you trying to distract me?” you muttered, your eyes still closed.

“Is it working?” Spencer smiled.

“Yes,” you admitted, feeling better anyway, despite not having discussed the topic much.

Spencer kissed you once more and pulled away.

“What time do you have to be up for the ceremony?” he asked.

“I think 6am,” you answered forlornly.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asked. 

“Probably not,” you admitted, knowing that something exciting was happening tomorrow usually told your brain it was better to deprive all chance of rest.

“Come on,” Spencer said, leading you to the bed. You laid down and watched as he went to one of your bookshelves, tracing his fingers against the spines.

“A bedtime story?” you snickered.

“Bedtime stories have many advantages, for parents, adults and children alike. The fixed routine of a bedtime story before sleeping has a relaxing effect, and the soothing voice of a person telling a story allows for a calm atmosphere in which the child can fall asleep more easily. The emotional aspect creates a bond between the storyteller and the listener, often a parent and child. Bedtime stories can be read from a book, or may be invented by the storyteller,” he recited from some source.

“Well, I have read that one at least twice,” you noticed the title. “Why don’t you make one up for me?” You gave him your best pleading smile and he put the book back.

“I’m not a storyteller,” he blushed. 

“I don’t care. Make something up. Anything,” you offered, getting under the covers. 

He followed suit, sliding under the covers and facing you. He took your hand and stroked small patterns on it with his index finger.

“Umm,” he muttered.

“Once upon a time,” you started for him. You looked at him expectantly to continue.

“Once upon a time,” he smiled. “There was a very smart, very strong, princess. And she lived in a wonderland called New Mork.”

“New Mork?” you laughed. 

“This is clearly unrelated to anything in reality,” Spencer answered with a smile. “Anyway, she was living her life, saving the kingdom, when a large, scary, dragon came to town. He stole the princess away. Then, the smallest of all the knights tried to save her, but he wasn’t fast enough. And in the end, the princess saved them both using her smarts. She was smarter than the knight when it came down to it, and the knight loved her very much because of that, and more,” he told his tale.

“And then what?” you asked, feeling your eyes growing heavy, but your interest in him speaking still high.

“And then the knight asked the princess to come live with him in his humble abode, and she said yes. And the knight felt like the king of the world in that moment,” you could see his blush even though it was dark.

“And did they live happily ever after?” you asked, yawning.

“Is that what the princess would like?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, closing your eyes. “The princess would very much like that.”

You muttered your last phrases as you started to drift, feeling the light pressure of a kiss on your forehead before dropping off into sleep completely.

Morning came far too soon, and you hoisted yourself up off the bed to get ready, trying not to wake Spencer. The actual graduation didn’t begin until 10am, but you had to get ready and get in line with everyone, which apparently required a few hours of preparation. You slipped on a nice dress and shoes, did your hair and makeup, ate breakfast, and gathered your cap and gown. Spencer agreed the night before to meet you there, despite his offer to take a cab with you there so early. You insisted that one of you should sleep. With the added pressure of meeting your parents tomorrow, you thought he might need it. You knew your parents would love him, but you were sure he was anxious about it anyway. It also didn’t help that you wouldn’t be there when he met them. They had offered to pick him up and drive him to the ceremony since traffic was sure to be a nightmare. You couldn’t imagine the pressure he must be feeling, but he seemed genuinely excited about it.

You got to school just in time, checked in, and found your place in line. You weren’t nervous so much for graduation as what would come afterwards. You were excited to move in with Spencer, but you hadn’t told your parents yet, and you were moving to a whole nother state. Hopefully they wouldn’t think it was too soon, or that you weren’t suited for each other. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, thinking about how fun it would be to live with Spencer. You were so absorbed in picturing what the next few weeks, you almost missed that the line had started moving to fill in the seats for the ceremony to begin.You looked through the sea of people, trying to spot the three you knew, but there was no luck. You weren’t on higher ground and couldn’t see any of them. You resigned to wait until you could meet at your designated meeting spot after the short ceremony.

The speakers were thankfully short and sweet, sorting out the usual cliches as quickly as possible. Finally they began the names and you waited your turn, got your degree, sat down, and waited for everyone to finish. Finally they finished the ceremony and let you roam the campus freely. You hurried over to the tree that you had designated and waited. Expecting to see only three people approach you, you were stunned when five figures broke through the crowd. Your mother and father, Spencer, and Penelope and Morgan were walking towards you with large, happy smiles on their faces. Your mom had a hold of Spencer’s arm, tucking it safely in his as he led the way. Penelope was wearing a bright blue dress and matching heels, Morgan wore a casual shirt and tie with the sleeves rolled up. Spencer wore his usual suit-like ensemble with a vest and his blue converse. Your parents wore nice, suburban-parent clothes, and were rushing faster than the others to meet you, your mom nearly dragging Spencer as she went.

When they finally made it, your parents hugged and kissed you, telling you how proud they were. Once they were finished mooning over you, you finally got to greet the rest of the family. Spencer got to you first, swinging you around in a joyous hug and a chaste kiss on the lips. Penelope hugged you and congratulated you, and Morgan presented you with a small box. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything!” you exclaimed.

“Open it,” he smiled that bright white grin at you. 

You obliged and opened it, finding a laminated pass inside. It read “FBI LONG TERM VISITOR PASS” in large lettering at the top. It also had your driver’s license photo and your name on it.

“I figured you might need it,” Morgan smiled. 

“Thank you!” you hugged him. “Did you know about this?” you asked Spencer.

“Maybe,” he grinned. It was so nice of them, you felt quite honored.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming!” you exclaimed, still surprised and happy to see them.

“We didn’t think we could make it, but then things opened up for us. The rest of the team says congratulations. They weren’t as lucky as us,” Morgan explained.

“Your friends are very nice,” your father stepped closer to you, seeing the gift. “And FBI agents, wow,” he smiled, seeming very impressed.

“Wow to your daughter, Mr. (Y/N)’s Dad, sir,” Penelope smiled. “We like her a lot. Like a lot a lot,” she rambled.

Your mom laughed.

“We do too,” she said.

“Why don’t we go treat ourselves to some lunch, huh?” your father asked the group.

“Oh, we don’t want to impose sir,” Morgan declined. “Penelope and I just wanted to see her walk the stage and say our congratulations. We’ll let you guys have a family lunch, and maybe catch up with you later tonight?” he asked.

“Sounds good,” you smiled. A little part of you loved that Spencer was now considered  _ family. _

You wondered if Spencer had told them you were planning on moving in together. It would be nice to be closer to theml, as every time you saw them, they felt more and more like family as well.

Morgan and Penelope said their goodbyes and hustled off to get lunch somewhere on their own. You turned to see your mom and Spencer talking animatedly about something as your father walked over to you.

“Where to for lunch, my lady?” he asked, offering you his arm.

“Anywhere,” you replied.    
“He’s quite something,” your father remarked, looking on at the two of them.

“I think so,” you smiled. “Do you like him?”

“He seems alright to me. And if he makes you happy, then even more than alright.”

It seemed like things were going pretty well, which made you quite happy. Spencer led your mother back over to you and smiled.

“Ready for lunch, graduate?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered.

Your mother let go of his arm in favor of your fathers and Spencer walked over to you, sliding his arm around your waist and turning to walk towards the parking lot, letting your parents lead the way. Your father drove the four of you to a local restaurant and you were seated quickly. You got a booth, you and Spencer on one side, your parents on the other.

You ordered food and began to eat and chat. You were nervous to bring up the subject of moving in with him, and decided to wait until there was an opening for it.

“So what do your parents do?” your mother asked casually.

Spencer seemed to freeze, swallowing loudly and then taking a sip of water.

“Um, they’re not… I um, they… My father is an attorney and my mother… Um… was a college professor,” he stuttered through his sentence.

Your parents shared a look that you found reasonable. For some reason you hadn’t thought to ask that question, and were wondering why it made him so uncomfortable. Not wanting to pry into something that was clearly troublesome, your mother continued to other topics.

“My daughter says you work catching serial killers?” she asked. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It’s actually not as dangerous as it sounds,” he said. “The main focus of our team is to profile the killer. We take information presented at crime scenes and come to a conclusion about who the unsub is and where he might go next in order to stop him. The only danger comes in the apprehension, but we always have backup,” he assured them, happy to be on a topic that was more comfortable.

“Must be long hours,” she guessed. 

“Sometimes,” he agreed.

“But we make the most of our time together,” you said, trying to segue. “In fact…” you took a deep breath, “We’re moving in together soon.”

You waited for your parent’s reaction with worry. Your mother smiled and your father simply nodded. 

“How wonderful,” your mother declared. 

“It will be nice,” you agreed. “This way we don’t have to drive or fly miles to see each other whenever he’s not catching criminals in other states.”

“Seems like the best idea,” your father agreed. 

“You’ll have to visit of course,” Spencer invited them. “I can show you around, and you can stay as long as you like.”   
Your mother seemed quite in love with that idea.

“We’re just happy she’s found someone who makes her happy,” your father explained. “And a cop!”

“Special agent, technically,” Spencer corrected him.

“Sounds even safer,” your father smiled. 

You hadn’t thought about it, but being with someone in the legal system probably did help ease your parent’s worries, especially after the whole debacle that brought you two together in the first place.

“We’re 1.1 miles away from FBI headquarters as well, if that helps,” Spencer added.   
Your mother and father looked impressed. You swelled with pride at your amazing boyfriend. The rest of lunch went smoothly, but you were still worrying about Spencer’s reaction to the question about his parents. Your parents were pleased with your choice, it seemed, and offered to help you move in with him if you needed it. You dropped them off at their place before returning to your apartment. Spencer got a text from Morgan when you arrived, asking if you wanted to do dinner that evening. You said you were wiped, so you didn’t want to go out. You asked if they wanted to come over and order out, to which they readily agreed.

Changing into something more comfortable, you waited with Spencer for Morgan and Penelope. Hearing their knock, you opened the door to find Penelope holding a circular box. She opened it, presenting you with a cake that conveyed congratulations on your graduation. Again you were overwhelmed at their thoughtfulness, and quickly invited them inside, placing the cake in the fridge.

You decided to go with pizza for the evening and quickly settled in on your couches and arm chair to just hang out and eat together. It was still strange thinking of them as FBI agents. In your head they were supposed to be stern, serious, and calculating. But these people were kind, funny, and open. 

“I’m so glad I’ll be near you guys,” you said, after Penelope made a joke.

“Are you coming to visit?” Penelope asked, excited.

“Oh,” you laughed. “You didn’t tell them?” you asked Spencer.

“No,” Morgan smiled. 

“What? What?!” Penelope gasped. “Oh!”

“Congratulations on that too, then,” Morgan laughed. “Moving in, wow. You know, I don’t think there’s any room for you with all the books and science crap hanging around,” he teased.

“I’ll just build a fort out of books and call it a home,” you joked.

“You may have to,” he said, while Spencer rolled his eyes beside you. “Hey, if you ever need a break, my bachelor pad is always open,” he raised his eyebrows playfully. 

You laughed, but Spencer shifted uncomfortably next to you, wrapping his arm possessively around you. You kissed him to assure him that Morgan was just joking.

Morgan and Penelope stayed for a few drinks after finishing up the pizza, and left the two of you alone to head back home. You were sad to see them go, but you’d be much closer to them in a week or so anyway, so you weren’t too disappointed.

Spencer helped you clean up the paper plates and bottles.

“Your parents are nice,” he commented. “I was so nervous when they picked me up, I started spewing the history of the graduation ceremony. They didn’t tell me to shut up, so I think that was a good start,” he smiled.    
“I think they loved you,” you assured, “They definitely trust you anyway,” you added. 

Thinking of his evasion at dinner, you tentatively asked your next question.

“So, um, when am I going to meet your parents?” you asked.

Spencer deposited the paper plates in the trash and scratched the back of his head, scrunching up his face. 

“I’m not sure,” he answered, avoiding your eyes. 

“Are they still together?” you asked.

“No,” he answered simply. “They got divorced a long time ago. Although the current divorce rate in America is about 50% so it isn’t too strange that it happened. Worldwide, the rate is--”

“Spence,” you stopped his stalling. “Come here,” you gestured to the table. You both sat down. “What’s up, why is this so hard?”

He sighed, not meeting your eyes, just looking at your hand as it found his.

“My father… I haven’t talked to him in a while. We were estranged for a long time. There are bad memories there.”

You looked concerned.

“Not like that,” he assured you. “Not abuse or anything just…” he breathed heavily and it sounded strained.

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t need your whole history tonight,” you assured him, although you wanted to know everything about him.

“He’s an attorney,” he explained. “And my mom…”

“She’s a professor, right?” you asked.

“She was,” he said sadly. “She was diagnosed with schizophrenia years ago, when I was a lot younger.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, stroking his hand. “That must be tough.”

“She manages, but sometimes it gets bad,” he agreed.

“You still talk to her then?” you asked.

He nodded. 

“She’s at a center in Nevada,” he explained. “I go and see her when I can.”

“I’d… I’d like to go with you one time,” you tried. “If that’s okay.”

“You really want to?” he asked, finally meeting your gaze.

“Of course,” you answered. 

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll figure something out for when she’s doing well.”

“Good,” you tried to smile. 

It seemed like there was something else that was bothering him, but you couldn’t tell if it was your prying that was doing it, or something else.

“Anything else?” you asked. 

He forced a smile.

“No,” he answered. “I’m fine. Tonight is about you, and your graduation anyway. Let’s celebrate that.”

He was clearly struggling with something, but you didn't think continuing to pry was going to do anything other than make it worse. In time, perhaps he would tell you. As it seemed to do with his parents, perhaps once you met them, he would open up to you more about it.

Spencer walked back over to the table and sat down. 

“What does a graduate feel like doing now?” he asked.

You involuntarily yawned and covered your mouth in surprise. 

“Sleep?” he asked with a small smile. He looked tired as well.

“I have to take a shower,” you noted, feeling the grime from the day on you.

“Okay,” Spencer said, tapping the table with his fingers before getting up.

“Or maybe a bath,” you mused to yourself. “Mmm, that’d be nice.”

“Studies show that baths calm people down and relax muscles much better than showers,” Spencer said off-hand.

You stood and wrapped yourself around him from behind. He was staring off into space, apparently unaware that he had just spoken. He was still thinking about something else, you could tell.

“Do you want to join me?” you asked. He jumped a little, like he hadn’t realized you were there yet.

“What?” he asked, apparently pulled out of his thoughts.

“You wanna join me in the tub?” you asked again.

“Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, I would.”

You could tell he was blushing even though you couldn’t see his face. You released your hold on him and walked to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder suggestively as you unzipped your dress and let it fall to the floor. It was always amusing to watch his brain effectively shut down at the sight of any of your skin showing. His lips trembled and he swallowed hard before scrambling to walk in some kind of calm manner after you. 

In your lingerie, you turned on the tap and let the water get warm before filling the tub and adding some bubbles. You found a few candles and lit them, placing them on the sides of the tub. Spencer was watching you from the doorway, mesmerized. You tested the water once everything was ready. Turning towards him, you slowly unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor. His pupils dilated and his lips twitched up in a small smile. You slid your panties off as well and stood before him.

“Well, are you going to join me?” you asked, taking your time in submerging yourself into the water.

You watched with a satisfied grin as he nearly tore his clothes off and let them join your discarded garments. You moved forwards and he slid in behind you. You leaned back, resting your head against his chest. The warm water really was relaxing, and the candles you had lit were starting to smell deliciously like lilac and lavender. 

Spencer wrapped his arms tentatively around you, resting them on your stomach, making sure you stayed close to him. Originally, it had been your plan to seduce him in the tub, but now that you were together like this, with him holding you in the soapy, warm water, you felt sleepy and content.

“I love you,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on your toes bobbing up between the bubbles.

You felt him kiss the top of your head, his whole body relaxing at those words. You hadn’t realized he had been tense before.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

You reflected on just how far you’d come since fate had brought you together. And the next few days would only get better. 

When you awoke the next morning, Spencer was already up and running around, gathering things to get ready. You’d hired a moving van for later that day, and although most of your belongings were already packed, Spencer was double checking everything. You didn’t have much to move, since you were only staying there for semesters at a time. Most of it wasn’t your furniture, save a few end tables and lamps. You packed mostly plates and kitchenware, which didn’t consist of much since it was just you living there. Finally, your clothes and bedding were packed away, ready to go when the van got there.

When the van arrived, you had no problem saying goodbye to your old place. You knew far better memories and moments awaited you in the future. Spencer obsessively oversaw the movers as they transfered your belongings to the van. You gave them apologetic smiles as he warned them about the statistics of lost belongings and broken objects during domestic moves.

You tipped them well after arriving at Spencer’s place a few hours later, apologizing for his overbearing. They seemed nice enough and helped you move your stuff into his apartment. 

You hadn’t been to Spencer’s place before. You’d only seen parts of it during your video calls with him. It was exactly his personality. There was an entire wall devoted to books on the left side of the main living room. The couch faced the fireplace, and through the living room you walked into the kitchen where everything looked nice, but well-used. The bathroom was clean and elegant, with a clawfoot bathtub. His bedroom had stacks of books on the floor, some open and awaiting further re-reading. A few microscopes were scattered on various tables. His bed was large and messy, with a many blankets strewn about it. Clothes lay around here and there, but for the most part it was organized, homey.

When the movers left, and you and Spencer were standing in the living room, surrounded by boxes, you just smiled at each other.

“We did it,” you laughed.

“We did,” he affirmed, taking you into a tight hug. “Welcome to the Reid estate,” he jested.

“We may have a problem,” you noted.

“What?” he seemed genuinely concerned for a moment.

“Your bookshelves are full,” you said with mock worry. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“Hmm,” he said, realizing you were kidding. “I suppose this is the end of it then. We gave it a try.”

“See ya,” you laughed, walking towards the door.

“Wait!” he yelled. “I have an idea…. It is crazy, but it just might work… We buy another bookshelf.”

He looked at you, while you pretended to debate the offer.

“Spencer Reid, you’re a mad genius,” you smiled.

You both laughed at this and looked around you. You really had done it, you were here, living with Spencer. As you ate dinner and went to bed that night, christening your new mattress with your lovemaking, you realized how truly blessed you were, and hoped that this new home could make you feel as safe as you did in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the bedtime story origins is taken directly from the wikipedia page  
> *also it might be relevant soon (and I guess it was previously) but I just wanted to say timeline-wise, this takes place sometime after Gideon left. I chose not to include Rossi or Prentiss or anyone after her, just because I felt they didn't add anything story wise. I love them on the show, but I didn't particularly feel the need to write them, just fyi.  
> *thanks for the love <3


	11. Chapter 11

You awoke to Spencer’s alarm blaring at some ungodly hour, to which you accidentally belted him in the face with your elbow and screamed. You heard a low chuckle from him as he rolled over and rubbed his cheek in the affected spot.

“Not a morning person,” he mumbled. “Got it.”

You blinked yourself awake enough to realize what was going on.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, noting that it was 5am. You pulled the comforter over your head and groaned. “Why do you have to go back to work? Can’t you just tell the criminals to be nice so we can stay in bed?”

“I don’t think that would work,” he frowned, moving to his dresser. 

You uncovered yourself in favoring of watching him get dressed. He pulled on his pants and tucked a button up shirt into them. He then covered that with a vest and added a tie. He mussed with his hair in the mirror, frowning at it. You laughed. He turned, startled.

“What?” he asked, smiling embarrassedly.

“Nothing, you’re cute,” you yawned.

“Cute as in adorable and you love me? Or cute as in I look like a child wearing a suit?” he asked.

“The first,” you responded.

“Good,” he sighed. 

He looked at you for a moment without speaking. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze; it reminded you of the first few times you had met when he was profiling you, figuring you out.

“What?” it was your turn to ask.

He shook his head, grinning.

“Nothing, I was just thinking of a word in Yaghan: Mamihlapinatapai.”

“Of course you were,” you answered dryly.

“It means the wordless look between two people who both desire something, yet are equally reluctant to initiate,” he recited happily.

“And why would you think that?” you asked, wondering what you wouldn’t want to initiate.

“Because I believe we would both like to kiss the other, but once we initiate, it would mean I would have to go to work,” he answered, grabbing his bag from the chair and putting his phone in its pocket.

You smiled at his intelligence, but it quickly faded because of the truth. You had sort of gotten used to spending time with him on his days off, and now he was going to leave again. He walked over to the bed and you moved to the edge of it. He leaned over to you and you turned your head away.

“I have to leave,” he insisted, bouncing on his toes with the apprehension of being late. 

You sighed and turned, kissing him deeply. He barely made it out of the kiss, and stepped back, grinning.

“I’ll remember that while I’m at work,” he said. He cleared his throat and covered his pants with his bag. “Or… maybe not while I’m at work,” he amended. You grinned at your success.

“What time will you be home?” you asked, wondering what you were going to do with your day.

“I’ll let you know when I know,” he promised. 

You nodded and he leaned in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead before leaving through the door with a longing look on his face. You sighed and laid back down, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. 

You waited until your stomach grumbled and your bladder was nearly bursting to actually get up out of bed. It was strange being home without Spencer. You had come to call it home, even in your head, but it was still foreign to you. You didn’t know the creeks of the floorboards or the smell of the rooms. You didn’t recognize or notice any imperfections in the molding, or know the story behind the slightly different colored paint splotch on the bathroom wall. 

You meandered to the kitchen, having grabbed one of Spencer’s sweatshirts to wear over your sleeping clothes. It was large and smelled like him which was comforting. You rooted around in his fridge, but didn’t find much. Satisfying yourself with some cereal, you sat down and read the paper. Apparently there had been a policeman shot in this district. He was in intensive care and they weren't sure he would make it. You couldn’t handle reading the news with all it’s drudgery, you weren’t sure how Spencer immersed himself in the minds of those responsible for the horrid headlines.

Deciding you had better put some actual food in this man’s house, you made a list and found the local grocery store. You were hoping today’s excursions would also familiarize you with the area. After finding one in walking distance, you got dressed, grabbed your purse, and headed out. You got the makings of a few different dinners, just in case Spencer was in the mood for something specific if he got home in time tonight. You got snacks for yourself, as well as some necessity spices and various other things Spencer didn’t normally have but were necessary for humans.

On your walk home, you noticed a nice-looking lingerie store. Making a mental note, you decided to return after unloading the groceries. No doubt Spencer’s job was stressful, and if you could help him de-stress, you’d want all the help you could get.

You unpacked the groceries and returned, as noted, to the store. You settled on a lace set of a bra, underwear, garters, and stockings. This would stop that mind from overanalyzing for sure, you thought, looking at yourself in the fitting room mirror. Happy with your purchase, you returned home. You hid the bag in the closet. Settling in the living room, you looked at all the boxes around you. Spencer had been right about needing another bookcase, but you were too lazy to go out a third time today. You looked at your clothes and wondered where you would be putting them. A glance at Spencer’s dresser showed that he had moved or at least organized half of each drawer to be empty. He hadn’t told you, but he had made room for you already.

You happily folded your clothes into the open drawers, hanging what needed hanging in the closet with ease. The boxes were then folded and put into a storage closet. All that remained were a few tables and small pieces of furniture you were pretty sure you would just sell.

With nothing further to do to unpack at the moment, you were stumped as to what to do. A small voice in the back of your mind told you that you should begin ideas for your novel, but you swatted it aside in favor of procrastination. You knew you should get going, but it was such a huge project and you had no idea where to start, or what to write about. Not to mention, if you did do all this work, there was no promise it would get published. You sighed, wondering if you should get a part time job somewhere nearby. Perhaps that would provide inspiration, or at least a little pocket change, which you were very close to being in desperate need of.

You procrastinated by perusing Spencer’s bookshelf and frowning at the amount of technical books. You didn’t have the interest or patience to try and understand half of what was up there. The internet distracted you for most of the afternoon until your phone rang around 4pm.

“Hey,” you greeted Spencer. “How’s the day going?”

He sighed heavily and responded, “It’s rough. There was a cop shot the other day, and another one today. The local PD have called us in to consult.”

“I read about that,” you remembered. “That’s awful. Are they okay?” you asked.

“The first one is still fighting, but the second one today passed away a few hours ago,” he lamented.

“Oh, Spence, I’m so sorry,” you said, feeling the sudden weight of sadness upon you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I was just calling to say that we’re wrapping up for the day here. There’s not much else we can do until they come back with the lab results and other evidence. I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he said.

You supposed he was in no mood to be happy, but he didn’t sound pleased to be leaving. They must really have nothing to go on, you guessed.

“I got some food today, so I can make you something,” you offered. “What do you want?”

“Anything,” you could hear his voice returning to its lighter tone. “Thank you,” he added.

“Of course,” you responded quickly. “Just let me know when you’re on your way and I’ll get it started.”

You didn’t mind playing the housewife this way with Spencer. At least right now, he needed this, or something like it anyway. You were sure he had lived on takeout food for far too long.

Perusing the kitchen, you decided on enchiladas. Spencer informed you shortly after your call that he would be home within the half hour, so you started cooking. The kitchen smelled like a Mexican restaurant by the time he got home. He walked in and smelled the air, sighing with what you hoped was contentment.

“Mexican food?” he asked. You nodded. “Awesome,” he said, dumping his bag on the couch and walking over to you.

You were mixing the enchilada filling, standing at the stove. He wrapped his arms around you and held you from behind. Again you felt him relax when your bodies made contact. It was as if, without you, he unknowingly tensed every muscle in his body. You couldn’t help loving the domesticity of the scene though. You loved that he came home to you, that he wanted to be with you, that he felt most relaxed with you.

He helped you finish making the enchiladas as easy conversation flowed between you. You both ate, the enchiladas having come out beautifully. Once you were done, you sat at the table for a moment. He still looked a little stressed to you, and you thought of the bag in your closet. A childish grin came on your face and Spencer quirked his eyebrows in wonder. Without a word, you went to the bedroom and shut the door. Spencer shouted his questions, but you ignored him, sliding on the lingerie you had bought after cutting off the tags. At this point, Spencer was knocking on the door, laughing wearily at your strange behavior. You doubted he could profile what was about to happen. Taking a look in the mirror and messing with your hair, you looked hot. You waited until his knocking had momentarily stopped to whip open the door.

His face went nearly slack, and for a moment you thought he stopped breathing. Apparently he had, because the next moment he gasped for air. You smiled proudly at him, and waited for him to say something as you leaned against the doorway. It was your turn to quirk an eyebrow.

“You… You… What… You… Wow…” Spencer stuttered to your satisfaction.

“What? This old thing?” you played. “Do you like it?” you asked.

Spencer licked his lips quickly and nodded enthusiastically, for once unable to form words.

You chuckled a little at his reaction, as it was better than you anticipated. You then pulled him in by the tie and closed the door. You lightly pushed him onto the bed, enjoying having a little control over him. He fumbled to a seated position, kicking off his shoes. Of course he wore ridiculous, non-matching socks that made you smile. His hands went for his tie, scrabbling to get it loose. You held a finger up to stop him, noticing how flustered he was becoming. 

“Relax,” you shushed him. His hands dropped to his sides and he watched you with a look of wonder as you carefully slid off the tie.

You looked at him carefully, assessing if he was doing as he was told. His breathing had slowly down and he looked a little less agitated. 

“Good,” you smiled.

You kissed him languidly, sliding off his vest as you did so and continuing to unbutton his shirt slowly. Once it was off, you laid him down against the mattress, caressing his hair and nipping at his lower lip. You continued to his pants which you slid off to reveal his erection. He blushed as you grinned at him. You sat up, making to remove your garments too when you heard his voice crack when he spoke.

“No!” he nearly squeaked. Clearing his throat, he tried to look calm, “Keep it on,” he almost begged you.

Smiling, and wanting to get a full use of your purchase, you obliged. The underwear of the ensemble had a useful hole in it, so disrobing was not necessary. You placed yourself above him, poised and ready, just waiting to tease him a little longer. When you finally lowered yourself onto him, his head lolled back and his eyes closed in pleasure. At that moment, you weren’t thinking at all about yourself. You wanted to make him feel good. The pleasure coursing through your veins was a mere side benefit. You began to ride him slowly at first, watching him writhe beneath you. You thought he might keep his head back the whole time, but as you continued your pace, he slowly tilted his head down to look at you. What you saw there was pure relaxation and admiration. The appreciation he was giving you with his moans and looks spurred you on, causing you to quicken your pace and your pleasure. Adjusting yourself so he hit you on just the right spot, you came just as he did, feeling the tension totally release from him with his climax and yours. 

You felt him chuckle beneath you and you joined him, rolling off of him in favor of snuggling up on his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

“Have I ever told you that you’re amazing?” he asked when he could catch his breath.

“I think it’s been generally expressed,” you teased.

“Well, you are,” he smiled. “Thank you,” he added seriously. “For being there for me, I mean,” he said.

“Always,” you promised, stroking light patterns on his chest.

“When did you get that?” he finally asked, pointing to your attire.

“There’s a lingerie shop on the way to the grocery store,” you shrugged.

“I shall have to thank the city planner,” he jested.

“Do you have to go back to that case tomorrow?” You dreaded asking, but you made yourself.

“Yeah,” he sighed. You were sorry you brought it up, it probably just undid what you had accomplished. “But knowing you’re right around the corner is helpful. When you were across the country, a lot of the time it felt like I couldn’t breathe right, like I was only getting half the oxygen or something,” he explained. 

“I know what you mean,” you nodded. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask how your day was,” he realized.

You shrugged and filled him in on your lack of adventure and inspiration. He offered you support and told you he was sure you’d find something to write about soon. You felt unworthy of such praise, as you were fairly certain he hadn’t read any of your creative writing. What if he actually hated how you wrote? You shook the thought away for now. The time would come where you would present him with something and he would read it with his super speed and judge it for himself, and you would just have to live with whatever he thought of it.

For now, you were content with snuggling with him, feeling his warmth beside you, and relishing the fact that from now on, this would be your bed, these would be your walls, together, you would build this home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter, I apologize, but the next one will be dramatic so I'll make up for it (I hope!)


	12. Chapter 12

The next day passed similarly as the first. You went out to explore and had most of the day to yourself. The weather was nice and you wandered a few blocks further than you had the previous day. You happened upon a used bookstore. Entering, you saw only a few browsers, the young man working at the coffee booth in the back, and an elderly man at the front cash register. You smiled at the gentleman as you entered and he tipped his hat to you. Blushing at such an old act of chivalry, you smiled politely and began browsing. After piling up quite a few books in hand, some you’d read and always meant to buy, and others you always meant to read, you found you way up to the register. 

The old man must have been at least 80 years old. His wrinkled face showed lines of laughter and hardship. He smelled like cigars and mint. His shaky hands rung up your purchases.

“Quite a nice selection you have here,” he remarked.    
“I could say the same of you,” you smiled. 

He tilted his head and looked at you.

“Are you from around here?” he asked, handing you your change.

“Just moved with my boyfriend,” you explained. He nodded.

“Looking for a job?” he asked.

You laughed nervously.

“Are you offering?” you asked.

He shrugged and glanced down at your books.

“You know your way around the good titles,” he noted. “And you’re nice, I can tell.”

“I try,” you smiled. 

“I need someone to help me out around here. I can’t always lift the boxes, and it hurts to bend over and load the bottom shelves,” he explained. “I can’t offer you much, but if you’d like some income…”

“I would love to,” you said hastily.    
Perhaps you should have considered it more, but it seemed too perfect to pass up. You could work surrounded by things you loved, close to home, and probably have time to write on the side. You introduced yourself, and he told you his name was Walter. You made plans to return the following week, as he had some paperwork to prepare and was otherwise engaged, to figure out the paperwork and start working.

You chatted with him for a while, learning that he was a widower, he and his wife had owned the shop together, and that his son was the one working at the coffee booth until he left for college the following year. Everything seemed perfect and lovely to you, and you were in high spirits when you left the shop.

You passed the rest of the afternoon snacking and reading. Glancing at the clock, you realized most of the day had passed and it was almost dinnertime. You hadn’t gotten any messages from Spencer so you texted him, asking what time he thought he’d be home. He responded that two more officers had been attacked and they were going to stay a little later to work more on the case. He said he would be home late, but not past midnight.

You heated up the leftover enchiladas and continued reading into the night. Around 9pm, your mother called you, asking if you wanted to video call with them. You had updated them on your progress in moving in, but hadn’t gotten the chance to catch them at a time when you could talk for an extended period of time.

You skyped with your parents, giving them the tour of the apartment. They were quite happy with your living space. You told them about your new job prospect, and how it would hopefully help you to write your novel.

You hadn’t realized you’d been talking with them for so long. You glanced at the clock as you heard the door open, and saw it was nearly 11:30pm. Turning, you greeted Spencer and showed him what you were doing. He greeted your parents, but you could tell he was exhausted and you didn’t want to make him have to pretend in front of your parents.

“I’ll talk to you guys soon, okay?” you promised.

“Okay,” your father answered. “And Spencer, keep our girl safe,” he said lightly, but with meaning.

“Will do, sir,” Spencer assured him. 

You signed off and closed your laptop, turning to lean against the kitchen counter to talk to Spencer.

“They want to come visit soon,” you relayed to him.

“That’d be nice,” Spencer answered. 

You bit your lip, trying to decide how best to ask yet again if you could meet even one of his parents.

“And… Um… You know, if your parents ever wanted to--”

“They probably wouldn’t want to visit,” Spencer interjected, looking down at the table.

“Well, we could always go to them. I know you’re not close with your dad, but I know you talk to your mom, and I just think that… I really want to meet her, Spence,” you explained. Talking with your parents had reminded you that you didn’t even know Spencer’s parents’ names.

“I know,” he answered quietly. 

“Then when can we do it?” you asked gently.

“I don’t know,” he avoided. 

“Do you… do you not want me to meet her?” you asked self consciously. 

He looked at you then, and cocked his head to the side.

“Why would you think that?” he asked.

“Well why else would you be avoiding this?” you explained.

He looked away and sighed.

“Two more cops were attacked today,” he said.

You took a seat and felt yourself deflate. You still wanted to talk about his parents, and as horrible as this was, it was just his way of deflecting. 

“I know. That’s awful, I’m sorry,” you sympathized. 

“The good news is that they’re in surgery and it looks good. And the first cop that was attacked and survived is able to talk with us tomorrow,” he said, a little brighter.

“That’s great,” you smiled.

“Maybe you’ll close the case sooner than you thought.”

“Sooner would be ideal. The unsub seems to be escalating. The targeting of two victims, and in a semi-risky environment tells us that he’s devolving and becoming more reckless. He might not stick solely to cops anymore, more people could be in danger.”

“I’m sure you’ll find him,” you promised. He nodded, but was unsure.

“Talking to the cop tomorrow will help,” he said quietly. 

“And then maybe after this case…” you tried, still feeling like your previous conversation was not finished. “We could go and see your mom?” 

Spencer sighed and wouldn’t look at you.

“I don’t think she’s doing so well right now,” he said.

“I don’t mind, Spencer. Honestly she could punch me in the face and I’d be glad for it. I just want to meet the woman that raised you. I want to know more about you,” you explained, not understanding why he wouldn’t want that.

“She’s just…” he trailed off.

“Why can’t you let me into this part of your life?” you asked. 

You felt yourself growing unreasonable, but you weren’t sure why. Perhaps it was that time of the month, or you were just tired. Perhaps this was just a more important issue than you had anticipated it would be.

“It’s not that,” Spencer answered unconvincingly. 

“If we’re going to be together, we need to know each other, Spence. Do you trust me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered. That felt good to hear at least.

“Then why?” you asked, feeling the tears building up despite your protest. 

“I can’t… Can we just save this for another night?” he asked. 

“Will you answer me another night?” you responded.

He waited too long to start his sentence and you got up from the table and went to the bedroom door.

“When you’re ready to talk to me, I’ll be in here,” you said. “Otherwise, stay out here. I love you, Spencer, but I can’t deal with someone who doesn’t want me in their life completely.”

The words sounded harsher than you’d meant them. This wasn’t an ultimatum for you. You knew that you and Spencer would work through this, that you would figure out why he was so desperate to keep a part of himself separate from you, but tonight it was just too much.

With one last, lingering look to see if he’d change his mind, you closed the door. You waited, hoping that he would come up and knock on it, telling you he was ready to break down whatever wall he was hiding behind, but he didn’t. You got ready for bed and waited some more, contemplating whether or not you should go out and talk to him. Your pride wouldn’t let you, however, and you heard the lights click off, and the squeak of the couch as he prepared to sleep out there that evening. 

You felt guilty. You knew you were overreacting. But that other part of you was convinced that there was a bad reason he didn’t want you to meet his parents. Did he not think you would last long enough with him for you to matter? Was he embarrassed of his mother for some reason? If so, why wouldn’t he trust you to not care about whatever he felt embarrassed about? Somehow, through all this tumult of your mind, you fell asleep.

When you woke up and left the room, you found a note on the kitchen table.

_ Sorry about last night. I’ll explain when I get home tonight.  _

_ Love you,  _

_ S _

You sighed as the guilt laid heavily on your shoulders. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was. You were glad he was going to open up to you, but it sucked that you had to wait a whole day.

You texted him saying you were sorry about last night too, and that you loved him and you’d talk later. No response. You waited a few hours and tried again, apologizing again. Nothing.

Fearing that he really hadn’t meant his apology, and perhaps was angry with you, you were about to text Morgan for emotional support, when your phone rang.

Speak of the devil, you thought, seeing it was Morgan calling you. You thought it must be like the Montana case, and your fight had thrown him off his game. Maybe Morgan was calling you to fix it so they could move on. You were more than happy to oblige. You picked up the phone fairly cheerfully.

“I was just thinking about you,” you smiled. There was a pause and Morgan said your name seriously.

“Listen, sit down, okay?” he instructed. You did so, feeling your body go cold.

“What?” you asked, not recognizing your own voice.

“Are you sitting down?”

“Yes,” you answered impatiently.

“Okay, listen. He’s okay, but Spencer’s been shot.”

You dropped the phone onto the couch and it bounced off onto the floor. It took you a minute to process and pick the phone back up. You could hear Morgan calling your name.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled. “Shot? What? Where?”

“I’m coming to get you right now, okay? We’ll go to the hospital. I’m pulling up in a few minutes, wait outside and I’ll--”

You hung up, grabbed a sweatshirt, your shoes, and your phone charger, and sprinted outside. Morgan pulled up a few moments later and you ran to the car. You didn’t realize you were crying until Morgan pulled out a few tissues. He waited until you composed yourself to start driving.

“What  _ happened _ ?” you demanded. 

Morgan sighed.

“The cop we interviewed gave us enough information to figure out who it was, and where he was heading,” he explained. “We went to the place, and it turned out the guy had a girlfriend.”

You noticed that at red lights Morgan put the siren on his car on, and sped through them, for which you were grateful. “When we got there, he brought the girl up to the loft in their apartment. Reid followed them up there with us, trying to negotiate her release. Things escalated and he was forced to shoot, but before the guy fell, he sent off a shot to Reid’s shoulder. That would have been okay, but it forced Reid over the small railing of the loft and onto the hard floor below. He’s got a pretty bad head injury, but they’re not sure how bad yet,” Morgan explained calmly.

You were hyperventilating, clutching the car seats, turning your knuckles white.

“Hey, breathe,” Morgan said forcefully. “He’ll make it. He has a thick skull,” he attempted a smile but didn’t quite succeed.

“We had a fight,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “It was dumb. It was so dumb.”

Morgan looked at you pitifully. He rounded the last corner and pulled into the hospital parking lot.

“He’ll be fine,” he assured you. “I’ve seen our team survive far worse than this,” he said with a knowing look. You believed him, but that didn’t make you feel any better.

Your shaky hands found the door handle and opened it, and you slowly made your way out of the car, unsure that your legs would support you. Morgan quickly jogged to you, and put his arm around your waist, making sure you were stable. You could tell all the blood had left your face, and you weren’t sure your heart would ever beat normally again.

“Come on,” Morgan said. “I think he’s still in surgery, but we can wait with team, okay?”

“Surgery?” you asked faintly. 

“They gotta get that bullet out of his shoulder,” he explained. “They said it didn’t hit anything too important from the looks of it. Some physical therapy should be okay. It’s more the head they’re worried about, but that’ll take time to figure out and will be harder to guess how he’ll progress.”

You nodded although you barely comprehended what he was saying. The smell of the hospital hit you as you entered through the main doors. Nurses, doctors, patients, and orderlies filled in the hallways, most of them acting as though the world were not in mortal peril, as you felt it was.

Morgan helped you make your way through and up towards the surgery ward. In the lobby, you found the team. JJ was staring into space, Hotch was trying to read a magazine, and Penelope was pacing. They all looked up when they saw you approaching, and got up to greet you with tight-lipped smiles.

“Hey,” JJ said comfortingly as she hugged you. 

“He’ll be alright,” Hotch promised, laying a tender had on your shoulder. 

Penelope sniffled and hugged you, unable to say anything, but squeezing you tight.

You nodded your thanks to them, feeling the tightness in your throat and doubting your ability to speak. You took a seat next to Morgan and he offered to get you some coffee, but you declined. 

“How long?” you asked.

“Depends,” Morgan shrugged. “Could be an hour, could be a few.”

You nodded. Staring at the diamond pattern in the carpet, you replayed the last things you’d said to Spencer. You wished more than anything you could have changed those words. You heard someone call your name in the distance. You looked up, seeing a doctor standing before you. The team had stood up and was waiting for you to listen to the report. You stood, wringing your hands together in fear and apprehension.

“How is he, Doc?” Morgan asked seriously.

“The surgery went well,” the doctor said. You liked his kind eyes and graying hair. “He should retain full use of that shoulder in time.”

“And his head?” Penelope asked. “Please tell me my perfect brain-boy is going to be okay.”

The doctor sighed. “It’s hard to tell at this point,” he admitted. “He will definitely regain consciousness, but whether or not his memory will come all the way back, it’s impossible to tell.”

“Do you have any idea when he will wake up?” Hotch asked.

“A day or two?” the doctor guessed. “No more than three or four days,” he added. “You can see him tomorrow morning,” he said.

The team thanked the doctor and you watched him leave, wishing he had more information, but thankful for it having not been completely horrible. You felt some weight of dismay leave you, but you still felt weighted down and nearly drowning.

You followed Morgan as he led you to sit down again.

“What do you want to do?” Morgan asked. “Go home?”

You shook your head.

“We can’t see him until tomorrow morning,” he reminded you. “You should go home and get some rest. It’s going to be a long few days.”

You looked at him skeptically, but the team was backing him up. You knew you wouldn’t sleep, but the time at home would at least let you rest and pack things you would need to stay in the hospital for a while. You allowed Morgan to drive you back home. He stayed for a while, watching you carefully as you made some tea with shaking hands.

“Hey,” he said, when you nearly spilt the tea you were carrying to him because of your trembling. He took the mug from you. “Sit down,” he said gently.

You did so, allowing him to carry the other mug over for you.

“I know what the doctor said sounded scary, but if I know Reid, he’ll be fine. Nothing can alter that big brain of his.”

You tried to smile but failed miserably.

“What if he doesn’t remember me?” you asked, frightened. 

Morgan scoffed playfully. “How could he forget you?” he asked. “He  _ loves  _ you,” he said. When you didn’t respond he repeated himself. “Do you know that? He  _ really _ loves you,” he said seriously. “I’ve seen him have crushes, I’ve even seen him date here and there, but  _ nothing, _ like this. Not even close. You’re closer to him than anyone else. The way he looks at you…” he trailed off and shook his head. “You’re not just in his head, you’re everywhere in him. I’m pretty sure if we tested his blood, you’d be there,” he said with a half smile.

You allowed a small smile on your face and sighed. 

“Thanks,” you said. Morgan nodded. 

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

“Do you need to be somewhere else?” you replied, not wanting to keep him from anything.

“Nope,” he answered. “Why don’t we get some food and watch some TV,” he suggested.

“We don’t have one,” you nearly laughed. “But I have my laptop. A distraction might be good.”

“No TV?!” Morgan mocked you. “You people… Well, I’ll call for some food and you pick out something to watch, okay?”

You nodded, more thankful than ever for his easy going personality and ability to calm you. 

You waded through your DVDs and found one that was always like a comfort food for you. Morgan came back and reported that he’d ordered pizza that should be here within the half hour. You weren’t sure you could eat, but you were willing to try. 

You set up your laptop on the coffee table as you and Morgan settled in. You started the film, but of course paid it no attention. Your mind wandered through phases of guilt, remorse, longing, and fear. You knew Morgan was watching you out of the corner of your eye and you felt sorry for making him babysit you. However, you still wanted the company, sure you would go mad if he left. He was a reminder that Spencer existed, that he would somehow make his way back to you.

The food arrived, and you managed to down one slice of pizza. Morgan tried to get you to eat more, but your nervous stomach wouldn’t hear of it. It was starting to get late, but you knew you couldn’t sleep.

“You don’t have to stay here all night,” you told Morgan. “I’ll be fine,” you lied.

He furrowed his brow and cocked his head.

“You know I read people for a living, right?” he asked.

You covered your face with your hands.

“I feel bad making you stay here,” you admitted.

“You’re not making me to anything. Reid needs me, therefore you need me. It’s simple. I’m here till you kick me out. Now, are you going to try to sleep?”

You gave him a look like  _ what do you think? _ and he nodded. 

“Alright, what’s next on our movie list?” he asked, sliding back down into the couch.

Eventually, after the third movie, you felt your eyelids drooping. Morgan had fallen asleep around the middle of the second film. You were just happy for his presence. Finally, you fell asleep, fidgeting and dreaming of horrible scenarios where Reid did not wake up.

You jumped awake at a light touch on your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you heard Morgan say beside you. Turning, you saw him sitting there with a cup of coffee and an egg sandwich.

“Did you make that?” you eyed the sandwich. 

“You had the stuff in your fridge. You need the protein,” he explained. It was clear he was going to stare at you like that until you took the sandwich, so you obliged, taking a small bite.

“When you’re done and have packed, we can head over,” he said.

This inspired you to finish the rest of the breakfast sandwich, for which Morgan was happy. You quickly showered and dressed, grabbed your laptop and charger, some books, extra clothes, and your phone. Morgan helped you down to the car, and you were off, butterflies filling your stomach.

You arrived at the hospital before the rest of the team and the nurse led you straight to his room. You clutched at Morgan’s hand and he obliged, taking your hand in his to steady you as you walked into the room.

Spencer lay peacefully under the dull, fluorescent lights. His chest was bandaged up and around his shoulder. His head was bandaged as well. The steady pulse rate binged quietly, letting you know he was still alive. An IV was attached to his hand. The nurse closed the door behind her, leaving just you and Morgan in the room.

It didn’t seem real. It felt like this was just someone who looked like Spencer, that they’d made a mistake, and Spencer was actually fine. His cheeks looked too hollow and his skin was too pale. How could he look so different from the last time you saw him? You realized you weren’t breathing.

“It’s him,” Morgan assured you. “You can touch him,” he suggested. 

You somehow managed to move your feet in the direction of the bed. You felt as though he might be made of glass and one touch would shatter him irreparably. Slowly, with a shaky hand, you reached out to touch his right hand. It was warm. For some reason you had expected him to be cold, but the blood still coursed through his veins. It was the same hand that held your when you were scared or just feeling in love. You took it in yours with newfound vigor, holding it and squeezing it as a tear rolled down your cheek. Wiping it away, you looked around for a chair, and, finding one close behind you, pulled it up to sit by him. You stared at him, waiting for any sign of movement.

“It’s going to be a few days before he wakes up, darlin’,” Morgan reminded you. There was a softness to his voice that calmed you. 

You turned to him, trying to stop the tears from falling again.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, “For being here for me, I mean.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’re part of the team now. We help each other out. Plus, I wouldn’t be anywhere else right now,” he added, looking seriously at Spencer. He checked his phone. “They should be getting here in a half hour or so,” he added. “We’ll be doing shifts with you so you’re not alone through this. You nodded thankfully. “Do you want to call your parents?” he asked. 

You hadn’t even thought about your parents. Suddenly a related thought came to you, guilt closely following it.

“Has someone called his parents?” you asked. Morgan shifted uncomfortably.

“Spencer had the FBI specifically not inform his father of anything other than his death,” he said. “His mother has been notified.”

You felt a sudden flutter of nervousness.

“Is she coming to visit?” you asked.

“She’s in mental institution, so I’m not sure what the rules are about that,” he admitted. “Plus she’s across the country, so we’re not sure yet.”

“Have you… met her?” you asked tentatively, feeling foolish.

“Yeah,” he answered. “She’s a nice lady, you’d like her.”

You nodded, not wanting to get into anything. Flashes of your fight came to your mind and you flinched. You wished you could apologize and he could hear you, but it would have to wait.

A few minutes later, Hotch, JJ, and Penelope entered the room. They brought snacks, cards, books, and movies. They were all dressed casually, and wore stern expressions that they attempted to morph into smiles for you. 

“How’s the patient?” Penelope went to stand by you. 

“Same,” you said.  

“Well, I brought flowers, and a teddy,” she said, revealing a bag with brightly colored objects. She placed the bear next to Spencer on the bed and put the flowers on the table beside him.

“That’s sweet of you,” you genuinely smiled.

“It’s the least I can do,” she said, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll all visit for a while, and then back to the office in shifts, this case still needs wrapping up,” Hotch delegated. 

The team nodded mildly and you sat with them for a while. They were all trying to be positive and keep your mind and theirs off the fact that Spencer was lying unconscious beside you. You appreciated their efforts, but you couldn’t stop the fact that every minute you checked the monitor and his body for signs that he was actually still with you.

Eventually, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch went back to the office and you sat with Penelope in comfortable silence. The sitting next to Spencer for so long was getting to you, and you twisted your back, trying to stretch.

“Want to take a walk?” she suggested. You sighed, looking at Spencer. “He’s not going anywhere,” she assured you.

You looked at him for a long moment before nodding, forcing yourself to remove your hand from his. It felt as though you were leaving some vital organ behind you. Penelope led you out of the room and down the hall. You were going to take a lap of the floor and return, you decided. Penelope took your arm in hers, which was quite comforting.

“You know, when Hotch was in the hospital after he got stabbed a bunch of times, we didn’t think he was gonna make it,” she reflected. “But here we are today, and he’s stronger than ever,” she smiled at you. It was hard not to feel somewhat relieved by her genuine smile.

“What happened there?” you asked, wanting a distraction.

“Serial killer grossness,” was all she answered. “But he’s dead now, and Hotch isn’t.”

“What happened to the guy that shot Spencer?” you asked.

“His was a shoulder wound as well, but he didn’t hit his head. It basically grazed him. He’s getting it looked at and then going to jail,” she said.

“And the girl?” you asked.

Penelope sighed. 

“Poor thing. She had no idea what she was dating. She’s fine though, he didn’t hurt her. Thanks to Spencer,” she said. 

“Stupid,” you muttered.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” you said. “I just… He would be all heroic wouldn’t he? Saving the girl and all that. And we had this fight…” you couldn’t keep it in and you felt the tears coming. Penelope looked a little panicked for a moment, but found two seats and led you over, cooing over you. “Sorry,” you apologized through the snot and tears. 

“What happened?” she asked.

“I just… I was being dumb. I wanted to meet his mom, but he wouldn’t tell me when, and it seemed like he didn’t want me to meet her,” you explained the whole situation as Penelope nodded and handed you tissues. 

“It’s complicated,” she muttered. “Spence has some issues there… It’s not my place but… just be patient with him,” she tried to calm you.

“I know,” you said, calming down a little. “I was just… confused I guess. I wanted to be with him, to know him completely and… it felt like that was getting in the way… But I shouldn’t have yelled at him.”

“Everyone fights,” she assured you. “And when he wakes up, you can talk about it.”

You nodded, knowing she was right, but unsure when that would be. Hours? Days? Weeks even?

You called your parents to inform them of what happened. They were understanding an planned on coming up and visiting once they could, which would be in a few days. You hung up feeling better knowing they would be with you soon. Peneloped waited a few more moments before asking if you wanted to continue your lap. You obliged and walked swiftly the rest of the way, impatient to get back to Spencer. You knew he wouldn’t be awake yet, but a small voice warned you not to be away too long, lest he should wake up without you.

You entered Spencer’s room to find a nurse adjusting his IV bag, Spencer still out cold. You frowned, disappointed but not surprised. The nurse quickly left, leaving you and Penelope to yourselves. 

“What do you want to do?” she asked. 

You looked around and found your bag. You pulled out a book. 

“Read to him?” you suggested. Penelope smiled in encouragement and you began to read. It was a collection of e. e. cumming’s poems. You did your best to do them justice, but when you came to “i carry your heart with me,” you couldn’t stop the shaking of the pages or the tremble in your voice. Penelope’s hand came to grab yours, and you found strength in this.

Day passed into night and JJ and Hotch both took a few hours with you. Morgan came closer to night time, after Hotch had ensured with his serious eyebrows that you eat something for dinner, to try to encourage you to go home and get some sleep.

“You’re not gonna sleep in that chair,” he noted, seeing its uncomfortable arms. “And I doubt Nurse Ratched is going to let you climb into bed with wounded Pretty Boy.”

You frowned, knowing this to be true. 

“You’re no good to anybody if you’re half asleep,” he persuaded you. “Just a few hours. We made sure that you’re above the hospital’s visiting hours rules, so you can come and go as you please, thanks to that handy FBI badge,” he smiled. 

You were wavering, feeling the need to rest your head on something other than a metal armchair. 

“I don’t know,” you said.

“Just four or five hours. He’ll still be here. Doc says he’s not waking up for another day or two. You won’t miss anything.”

You bit your lip, knowing he was right, but feeling guilty for leaving. Finally, you felt him guiding you out of your chair, not waiting for the answer he knew you wanted to give, but couldn’t.

You let him guide you, saying a silent goodbye to Spencer for the night. He drove you home and you tried not to notice how empty the apartment was. 

“Go take a shower and get some rest,” Morgan instructed, pointing to the bedroom. “I’m gonna be right here on this couch if you need anything.”

You hugged him, feeling some of the tension leak out of your body. He held you and let you thank him one more time before shooing you off to take care of yourself.

You did as you were instructed and found it far easier to fall asleep than you thought. The stress you had been through was too much, and your body needed rest. Quite soon after hitting the pillow, you fell asleep.

When you woke up, you blinked heavily and looked at the clock. It was mid afternoon. You shot up and out of bed, bolting into the living room. JJ was sitting at your kitchen table, reading the paper.

“Why didn’t anyone wake me?” you nearly shouted. She jumped a little, not expecting your energy.

“We knew you needed sleep,” she answered calmly, standing up as if she were afraid you were a bull about to charge. 

“I don’t need to sleep,” you replied. “I need to be with him,” you added. Going back into your room, you changed. You grabbed a bagel from the counter and looked at her. “Can we go now, please?” you asked. She looked at you sadly and nodded. 

You drove with her to the hospital, listening to her assurances that everything was fine, that Morgan had called earlier saying everything was the same. You appreciated it, but you needed to see for yourself. It sounded like she wanted to tell you something else, but you got out of the car and essentially ran into the hospital before she could. Whatever it was, it could wait until you were with Spencer. You heard her calling out for you, but you just kept going up to Spencer’s room. 

You opened the door and stepped inside. At first you thought it was a nurse standing there next to Spencer’s bed. Hotch stood awkwardly to the side, watching the her and Spencer carefully. JJ finally caught up to you, and Morgan entered the room with her. You walked over to Spencer, and realized the women was not hospital staff at all. She looked to be about 50, with short, blonde hair. She looked on with affection at Spencer, twisting her sweater in her hands and muttering softly.

Morgan stepped to your side.

“(Y/n),” he said, motioning to the woman. “Meet Diana Reid, Spencer’s mother.”


	13. Chapter 13

You stood in shock for a solid ten seconds before reaching out a surprisingly steady hand to her. Her pointed features and tired eyes faced you slowly. Her gaze followed down the length of your arm to your outstretched hand, and her mouth curled into a frown. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you managed, introducing yourself and giving your name.

She eyed you for a moment before turning to Morgan.

“Where’s the doctor?” she asked, completely ignoring you.

You dropped your hand and let it lay awkwardly at your side. Morgan cast you an apologetic glance and led her out of the room, telling her he’d take her to him. You took a seat, dejected, by Spencer’s bed.

“She’s like that with everyone at first,” Hotch offered. You smiled meagerly in response. 

“It took her six times to remember my name,” JJ added.

“I just thought… After everything, all that build up,” you half laughed.

“Yeah, I know,” JJ commiserated.

Penelope walked in then with a couple coffees, having missed the whole thing.

“How is she here?” you asked. “I thought she was in an institute?”

You were somewhat embarrassed by your lack of information on the subject given your closeness with Spencer.

“She convinced the institute it would be best for her mental health. They sent a nurse along with her,” Hotch explained. “We only just found out before you did.”

You nodded, not really caring why she was here, and more focused on the fact that she had completely slighted you. In your head, the meeting of Spencer’s mother had gone swimmingly. She embraced you, telling you how she loved you if Spencer loved you, and all that jazz. And you would have proved Spencer’s doubts wrong. Perhaps he was right in putting off the meeting. You gazed at his still unconscious form, longing more than ever, for him to wake up. The room was silent, everyone was waiting for someone else to fill it. Hotch, JJ, and Penelope soon had their fill of silence and made their excuses to leave you alone with Spencer for a few moments. You looked around the room, trying to focus on anything other than his still form. 

Looking in your bag, you picked out another book. You opened it, and started to read, but couldn’t focus. Laying the book down on the bedside table, you moved closer to the bed, brushing a few stray hairs back from Spencer’s forehead to kiss it gently. 

“He likes those,” you heard a voice behind you. Turning, you saw it was Spencer’s mother, looking at you intensely. “Forehead kisses, I mean,” she added. “Always has.”

She made her way over to you and Spencer slowly, watching her son closely. You glanced out the window of the room to see Hank standing outside the door.

“I’ll make a note of that,” you tried to smile casually. You had to watch her face minutely to look for any signs of the previous coldness. Surprisingly, you didn’t find nearly as much.

Diana walked closer and crossed to stand on the other side of Spencer’s bed. 

“He was such a small boy,” she reminisced. “And now he’s so big. Too big, I think.”

She didn’t seem to need a response from you to keep talking, so you let her go. She continued to talk about Spencer and you listened. Some of her sentences didn’t quite make sense, as if they were structured in a way only she could understand. Some things didn’t seem particularly relevant either, but you could tell she wanted to talk to you, and you’d take that over icy silence.

She had been rambling for a few minutes and you had taken Spencer’s hand into yours, turning it over and examining it at she spoke. You heard her call your name and realized you had missed some kind of question.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked. Her eyes narrowed at you.

“You seem to care for him a lot,” she observed.

“I do,” you tried to smile. “I love him.”

Her countenance portrayed doubt, but you figured she wouldn’t have said anything of the kind if she didn’t at least sort of mean it.

“Spencer’s told me a lot about you,” she continued, taking a seat opposite you.

“Good things I hope,” you replied. She nodded, still skeptical of you. You bit your lip and tried not to ask, but you couldn’t help it. “Did I do something wrong?”

She considered this for a moment before answering.

“When Spencer was little, he was obsessed with Santa Claus,” she said. You blinked, trying to understand, but she continued. “We let him believe, told him that he gave every child presents in one night and all of that… He loved Santa,” she said, shaking her head. “He was so excited to do all the math, and figure out how fast he would have to travel, and how many houses per second he would have to visit… And then he found out it wasn’t real.” Her gaze turned to her son. “And he was shattered. He was so upset for so long, I thought he’d never get over it.” You didn’t quite understand the relevance of this story. She turned back to you. “Do you understand?” she asked. You shook your head. “Santa was not real. If he finds out… If you’re not… If this isn’t real…” She looked at Spencer worryingly.

“This is real,” you assured her, reaching out to touch her hand for assurance. She flinched, but didn’t pull back. “One hundred percent real, I promise,” you answered vehemently. 

She assessed you for a few long, torturous moments. You let her, knowing she would find no doubt on your face.

Finally, she nodded and turned her hand around to accept yours. You stayed like that for a moment, and felt a surreal sense of calm settle around you. This was soon shaken by the door opening, at which time you sat back in the chair, releasing Diana’s hand.

You turned and saw Morgan and a man you didn’t know enter the room. You stood.

“This is Hank, Diana’s nurse,” Morgan gestured to the man. You shook his hand and greeted him, noticing his bright pink shirt which was patterned with pineapples.

“Diana,” he said in a gentle tone.

“I know, I know,” she grumbled, pulling herself away from Spencer’s bedside. She walked close to you and muttered, “They stuff me full of drugs and call me crazy, but  _ he’s _ the one wearing that shirt,” she pointed at Hank.

You chuckled and watched her leave the room with her aid. 

“How’re you holding up?” you heard Morgan’s voice behind you. You let the smile drop from your face, despite the good feeling it had brought you.

You sighed and turned to him. 

“Worried,” you confessed. “Shouldn’t he have woken up by now? The doctor said--”

“The doctor said he’d wake up in a few days,” Morgan said. “It’s still only a few days.”

You bit your lower lip with worry and played with a strand of your hair.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” you nearly whispered. Morgan pulled you to him and you let his strong arms wrap around you. You stayed like that for a moment before both pulling away.

“You know what might help?” he asked. You shook your head. “Tea.” He smiled and you nodded. “I’ll get you some, okay?” he asked.

“Thanks,” you said.

You watched him leave and returned to your seat next to Spencer. You searched his face and then closed your eyes, wrapping your hand in his.

“Please,” you whispered. “Come back to me.”

You felt a tear run down your cheek, but you didn’t bother to wipe it. You knew it would soon be joined by others.

“Spencer, please,” you couldn’t stop yourself. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You laid your head on his hand, thinking about your favorite moments with him. 

“I fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet)/I want no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)/and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant/ and whatever a sun will always sing is you,” you recited, thinking of when Spencer had told you he loved you.

Silence came after, shortly followed by a hoarse voice, which said, “I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart.”

Your head snapped up, and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. Spencer’s eyes fluttered and stayed open, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His hand squeezed yours. Before he could take another breath you were in the bed with him, crushing your lips down on his and trying to breath through the kisses and sobs. When you managed to pull yourself together, after several moments in which you thought your rib cage would burst open, you heard Spencer’s low chuckle. 

You turned your head to look at him.

“Don’t you  _ ever  _ do that again,” you warned half-heartedly, slapping your hand lightly on his chest, making sure to go nowhere near the bullet wound.

“I promise, I’ll try,” he answered.

“Well, well, Sleeping Beauty’s awake.”

You turned to see Morgan, standing at the end of the bed, holding your tea, with an enormous grin on his face. You hadn’t heard him come in.

“Morgan,” he greeted. 

Morgan walked over to a decanter, put down your tea next to it, and poured him a glass of water. Spencer took it willingly, sitting up slightly to drink it. You were in no mood to care that you probably should get out of his bed. You stayed curled up next to him, and he moved his arm so you could snuggle closer. Morgan took a seat beside him and pulled out his phone, sending a group text to the team.

“You had us worried,” he said somewhat seriously.

“I had to keep you on your toes,” he jested. “Did we get him?” he asked, regarding the unsub.

“Yeah,” Morgan smiled. “You saved the day, kid.”

You smiled proudly at him.

“Don’t make it a habit,” you added. “At least, not this way.”

“I would rather not,” he agreed. 

Suddenly, you remembered that his mother was here and you had met her.

“Um… Spencer,” you started. “Remember that fight we had about your mother?” you asked.

He looked at you quizzically. It looked like he was about to say something but you continued. “She’s here,” you informed him. His eyes went a little wide. “And we’ve met,” you added. 

As if on cue, Diana and Hank entered the room. You sat up and removed yourself from Spencer’s embrace, feeling like a high schooler caught making out.

“Mom,” Spencer smiled. You liked watching his face light up like that.

“Spencer!” she ran over to him and kissed his forehead. Morgan maneuvered himself gracefully out of the line of fire.

After she had given her son the proper greeting, she stepped back. 

“You’ve met, then?” he asked of the two of you.

“Yes,” she answered. Then, after a pause, “Spencer, I think she likes you,” she said.

Spencer laughed. 

“I think you’re right,” he said, smiling at you. 

“I think I like her,” she added. She didn’t smile, but you would take what you could get. 

You saw Spencer smile again and he turned to give you a quick kiss.

Hank allowed Diana to spend the rest of the day with Spencer, but assured her that she needed to leave in the morning, since she had seen her son wake up, and that was all the hospital had agreed to let her do. Spencer spent some time with her and with you. The team stopped by and were thrilled to see him up and about. The doctor came by to check him out too, promising that everything was looking fine. You gave him time alone with the team and his mother, strolling around the hospital, thinking.

While you were thrilled, of course, to have Spencer awake, the remnants of your fights still hung in the back of your mind. What was the true reason he hadn’t wanted you to meet his mother? Were they cleared now that you had?

When you returned to the room, you spent some time with the team and Diana, all talking and laughing with Spencer as if he weren’t wounded in a hospital. When it became late evening, and everyone was tiring, they gave their goodbyes. Spencer promised his mother that the two of you would visit her soon, to which she seemed to want to elicit a binding promise.

She left with a fond wave and let Hank lead her out.

When you were alone again, you crawled back into bed with Spencer.

“So, what did you think?” he asked. 

“Of what?”

“My mother.”

“Oh…” you responded. “She was different than I thought.”

“Bad different?”

“No,” you responded quickly. 

Then you paused, unsure if you should bring it up. Spencer gave a tired sighed and you knew you should wait until he’d been conscious more than a few hours. He still needed rest. Now that you knew he was okay, your troubling thoughts could wait.

“Good,” he said breathily, closing his eyes. You could tell by the way he said it that he had already started falling asleep.

You let him rest, staying nestled up close to him as he did so.

The doctor checked on Spencer in the morning and cleared him to leave that afternoon. Now more than ever, you were thankful for having moved in with him. Living together would make looking after him for the few weeks of forced leave the doctor required much easier.

After checking out of the hospital and convincing Penelope that he was absolutely fine, the doctor had assured him, you followed Morgan to his car to have him drive you and Spencer home. You sat in the back seat with him, holding his hand and watching him carefully, afraid he might suddenly pass out and never wake up again, like this consciousness was a fluke.

You made it home and Morgan saw the two of you up to your apartment.

He pulled Spencer aside and laid a gentle hand on his unwounded shoulder.

“You need anything,” he trailed off, allowing Spencer to nod, knowing he could ask for anything he needed. With a nod at you, Morgan left you two alone.

The doctor had suggested physical therapy for the following week which you convinced Spencer he needed to comply with. For the time being, however, you had nothing to do but look after him until your meeting with the bookstore owner in a few days time.

Spencer plopped down on the couch and looked up at you with a tentative smile. You sat down next to him.

“You’re still thinking about that fight,” he said, gazing at you intently.

It didn’t cease to amaze you how he could read you so easily, when you’d given no hint to what you were thinking.

“You’re profiling me,” you deflected. He shrugged. “But yes,” you admitted.

Spencer nodded and licked his lips, thinking of what to say next.

“It wasn’t you,” he said. “It was never about you, or even her really,” he spoke quickly, like he was reciting facts. “I never told you because I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I’ve never said it out loud but… I’m afraid,” he said, looking genuinely nervous and scared. “I guess I still am…”

You reached for his hand and moved closer to him.

“Of what?” you asked.

“Of becoming her,” he answered softly, barely audibly. “Schizophrenia is often inherited. It’s quite possible that I will…” he gulped, unable to finish his sentence.

You carefully wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. His shaking hands closed around you and he buried his face in your neck.

“Even if it did happen, I would be here for you,” you assured him. “No matter what happens I’ll always be here.”

He pulled away and looked at you with no small amount of wonder. 

“I’d hear things that weren’t there. I’d forget who you are, or possibly question if you were actually real,” he said, as if you didn’t understand what would happen.

“And I would remind you that I am real. You are real. We are together. And I love you,” you answered. 

He looked at you for a moment, and you could see the gears turning. You thought perhaps he would share whatever revelation had apparently occurred to him, but instead he kissed you.

It was a real kiss; the kind where you feel it in your soul, and know that you are with the man you are supposed to be with. After you managed to pull yourselves away, you said nothing. Something passed between you in the glance you shared, though you dared not try and name it.

After a few heavy moments of silence, you decided that good news was in order. You told him about your job opportunity and he was thrilled, knowing it was the perfect job for you.

There was an easiness between you now, and even though the days after your fight had caused you so much anxiety, the relief you felt now made it all worth it.

You ordered in food and relaxed with Spencer, just happy to have him alive and with you.


	14. Chapter 14

Your parents contacted you the following day and offered to come up and visit for a day. You and Spencer were glad for the company, and invited them up for the weekend. Your time at home with Spencer so far had been easier than you had anticipated. He was able to mostly take care of himself; all you needed to do was help him wash his hair, which you were more than happy to jump in the shower with him for.

Your parents arrived in the afternoon on Saturday, and you welcomed them in, leading them around the apartment they had so far only had video tours of.

“It’s so lovely,” your mother remarked, glancing around at your and Spencer’s combined furnishings. You were glad you had finally gotten another bookshelf and the living room looked less like an abandoned library.

“We drove past the FBI building on the way,” your father remarked, following Spencer into the kitchen. “Impressive looking place.”

“It was first opened for use in 1972 on 385 acres, or 1.6 km², of woodland. The basic training complex has sixty dormitory buildings, a dining hall, library, a classroom building, a Forensic Science Research and Training Center, a 1,000-seat auditorium, a chapel, administrative offices, a large gymnasium and outside track, along with a fully equipped garage,” Spencer relayed to him happily.

Your father shot you a look, raising his eyebrows and holding back a laugh.

“I see that fall didn’t knock anything loose then,” he jested. Spencer smiled at him.

“Are they taking care of you?” your mother asked, walking over to Spencer to fuss over his shoulder gently. “I thought you said your job wasn’t dangerous,” she said scoldingly.

“It’s not… Usually,” he added, although you knew he was just lying for your parent’s sakes.

“It was just a fluke, Mom,” you chimed in, trying to sound confident. You knew it wasn’t a fluke though, and the thought that this, or something worse, might happen again floated to the top of your mind’s endless list of worries regarding Spencer.

Your mother didn’t look quite convinced, but she let it drop, offering to make some tea.

“It does get me time off though,” Spencer smiled happily, taking a seat at the kitchen table and watching your mother’s preparation of the tea. You slid into the chair next to him and moved it closer to be near him. He placed his hand gently on your thigh.

“Well, I must admit, that is a nice thing,” said your mother.

“When do you start your job?” your father asked you.

“Next week,” you answered happily. “Should be a pretty easy gig, I don’t think many people are buying used books these days. It’ll be nice pocket change though, and it’ll get me out of the house,” you added.

“We could stay for Monday too, if you like,” your mother offered. “Spencer shouldn’t be alone this early on.”

She pinched his cheek and he laughed. You marveled at their easy-going acquaintance. 

“I’d like that,” Spencer responded. 

“Maybe we could get a tour of that fancy building you work in?” your father suggested.

“I think I could make that happen,” he nodded.

Thinking about your parents alone with Spencer didn’t make you as nervous as you’d anticipated. Anyone else, even close friends, alone with them felt strange… You knew it was because Spencer was really a part of you and your family that it didn’t feel strange at all.

The weekend passed, and more than ever, you were thankful for your parents. They cooked for you and helped the two of you tidy up around the apartment. You went for a few walks and played some games. The whole time they got on wonderfully with Spencer. When it came time on Monday for you to leave to meet with Walter in the bookstore, you were almost sad to leave them.

Arriving at the bookstore, Walter supplied you with the necessary paperwork, and welcomed you warmly into his employment. He showed you around the store, teaching you his methods of organization. He offered you any book you wanted, so long as you either paid for it, or used the store as a library. This sent a wave of excitement through you and he smiled at this, not used to seeing young people excited about reading.

A surprise visit from your parents and Spencer during lunch was more than welcome, as there had been only one customer the entire morning. You introduced them to Walter who greeted them genially.

They left soon after lunch for their FBI tour, which your father was very excited for. You promised to meet them for dinner at any restaurant of their choosing.

The day went smoothly after that. You chatted with Walter’s son, Frank, who worked at the coffee booth, and the day went by pretty quickly. You were even able to do some freewriting to get the juices flowing for a possible novel idea. Not surprisingly, most of your thoughts centered around a certain FBI man.

Closing time came, and you helped Walter finish up for the day. He seemed really happy with you and you felt that a kinship would soon grow between you. Lovers of books were often drawn to each other, you noticed.

You called your mother on the walk home to ask if they had picked out a restaurant yet. She responded with the name of a nice Italian place nearby and also alluded that she had a surprise for you. Thinking it was probably a snow globe or something equally innocuous from the FBI trip, you didn’t rev yourself up too much. You went home to change into a nicer dress, one that would make Spencer have to watch his drool in front of your parents, but that was also appropriate for a family meal. After that, you headed to the restaurant to meet up with them.

Arriving at the restaurant, and giving the name of your party to the host, you followed her to a table that was much larger than you had anticipated. Standing around it, as an explanation and surprise, were Morgan, Penelope, and Hotch.

You nearly squealed and ran to hug each of them. It hadn’t been that long since you’d seen them, but after all the emotional drama, it felt like years.

They were equally happy to see you. You were in Morgan’s embrace when Spencer cleared his throat.

“Don’t we get a greeting?” he asked jokingly. 

You kissed him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“That dress looks amazing,” he whispered in your ear. This sent shivers down your spine which you desperately tried to conceal. 

You greeted your parents and took a seat between Spencer and Morgan.

“We ran into your friends during our little tour,” your mother explained. 

“We just got back from another case,” Hotch explained. “It was pleasure,” he added.

As the dinner progressed, your parents asked so many questions about the FBI, you were beginning to wonder if they wanted to apply. In turn, Morgan asked them about you, trying to ferret out any embarrassing stories, and succeeding. You spent most of the evening blushing and trying to get your parents to at least pretend that they cared about your dignity. The team was eating the stories up, and Spencer looked equally as delighted to hear about your childhood awkwardness.

After a few rounds of drinks and even some dessert, you all decided to call it a night. Your parents decided to stay the night and head back in the morning, since the drive was a little over five hours. You got ready for bed and snuggled in with Spencer.

“How was your day with my creators?” you asked.

“Really enjoyable,” he answered genuinely. “I missed you, though.”

“Naturally,” you smirked.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Walter’s pretty hunky,” you jested. “He could give you a run for your money.”

“I could tell there was chemistry between you,” Spencer pretended to be concerned. “Maybe if I dye my hair gray…” he pretended to consider how to make himself look as old as Walter.

“That might do it,” you laughed and kissed him. “Thanks for hanging out with them today. I think they really like you.”

“Well, it’s mutual,” he said. His eyes looked heavy for a moment. “I wish you could have the same thing,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry my--”

“Hey,” you stopped him. “It’s not your fault. I’m honestly just really lucky, and somewhat of an anomaly. Don’t feel bad about it, okay?”

He nodded, but you were sure he still felt guilty. You sighed, knowing you couldn’t do much to convince him at the moment.

You slept peacefully, only waking when Spencer groaned in his sleep. You rolled him off his injured shoulder and he went back to sleep none the wiser. In the morning, you said goodbye to your parents and thanked them for coming up to see you.

That day, you offered to take Spencer to work with you so he wouldn’t be alone for the day. He happily obliged, and Walter was more than glad to have another person to talk to. There were more customers today, so Spencer contented himself with reading a few books while you worked. You read a little too. There had been some new additions to the store that you thought looked pretty interesting.

You closed up shop with Walter and headed home with Spencer. He started a fire while you heated up some leftovers for the two of you. Lounging with him on the couch in front of the warm fire, you gazed at his perfect face and wondered how you’d managed to go those long few days without seeing those eyes looking at you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, when you had been staring at him for quite a few minutes.

“Just thinking about you,” you smiled. “You know, the book I started today was about a guy in a coma, and the dreams he had,” you explained. “Did you have any weird dreams?”

You saw a blush rise to his face and he cleared his throat.

“Not weird, no,” he said. “At least, not weird to me. I mean weird is all about perception isn’t it? And we all… Why are you laughing?” he smiled.

“Just you,” you responded. “What was it?” You leaned in close and whispered, “Was it a sex dream?” and pretended to be shocked.

“No,” he laughed. He took hold of your hand and stared at it. He smoothed his thumb over the ring finger of your left hand. “It was… Just about us.”

“Oh,” you said. “What happened?”

He laughed.

“It was just a dream,” he deflected, still blushing. 

“Come on,” you nudged him. “Tell me!”

He sighed and looked at you cautiously.

“I had a dream…” he said, watching you carefully. “That we got married. And we had this nice wedding with all our friends, and a cake shaped like castle for some reason. And we danced and said our vows and all that… And then it sort of fast forwarded, and we had these kids,” he was looked almost past you now, as if remembering the images from the dream. 

He listed these events so happily, you saw the smile creeping onto his features the more he divulged. When he had finished, he took a minute to get himself back to where you were.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his face by kissing your hand. “It was just a dream.”

“Sounds like a nice dream to me,” you whispered. You drew your hand up and touched his chin enough to guide his lips to yours.

As the weeks went on, and Spencer’s shoulder improved, everything started to fly by. You grew more comfortable in the book store and quickly became like a daughter to Walter. Spencer was cleared to be in the field all too soon, and you couldn’t help the gnawing in your gut, like a drill was making it’s way through the lining of your stomach, just wondering if he was okay in between calls and texts. 

Being at work gave you plenty of time to think, however, and in order to distract your mind from the harrowing images of faceless unsubs shooting Spencer, you were forced to focus on ideas for your novel. You were starting to nail down a story, or at least formulate characters. Spencer came home every week, or at least whenever they finished a case. You kept yourself busy enough so as not to let yourself feel too alone. Walter and Frank helped with that too. You went out for dinner and events a few times with them, truly feeling like part of their family.

You had almost forgotten it had been nearly a year that you and Spencer had been together until he mentioned it one night. He was on a case across the country, and had mentioned it in passing that this would be the weekend you had started officially dating. For some reason anniversaries didn’t seem like much to you. All you cared about was that you and Spencer were still together. The rest was semantics. However, the fact that he remembered (not surprisingly down to the minute and second) when you had become a couple, was touching.

“What do you want to do for it?” you asked, your phone on speaker as you cooked some pasta for dinner.

“Actually, there’s a charity ball that the FBI have been invited to,” he said. You could hear the pitch in his voice shift up a notch. “Would you maybe want to go?” he asked tentatively. 

“We’d have to get dressed up?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“So you’d wear a tux, then?” you smiled.

“I suppose so, yes,” he said, clearly not understanding the draw of what a well-dressed Spencer would do to you.

“And then I could rip it off of you when we were done?” you helped him see your line of reasoning. The phone rustled like he might have dropped it and caught it. You heard an embarrassed chuckle on the other end.

“I suppose so,” he replied sheepishly.

“I’m in,” you decided, taking your pasta off the burner and draining it.

“Great,” he seemed genuinely excited.

He gave you the particulars. There was to be dinner and dancing. You and Spencer weren’t particularly big on dancing yourselves, but planned to make the most of the evening nonetheless.

The ball was to be in a week, giving you at least some time to look for a dress. Thankfully you had a little spending money because of your new job, so you decided to treat yourself. The team got back from their case in a few days, and you had decided to invite JJ and Penelope along with you to go shopping. They needed gowns too, and you thought a girl’s day out might be just the thing.

Secretly, you wanted to wow Spencer. Although the dress you’d worn to the dinner with your parents had gotten a reaction out of him, the thought of making him actually speechless was more than enticing.

Spencer seemed jealous of your day with the girls, but good naturedly decided to go with Morgan to look at renting a tux. You kissed him goodbye to the childish “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” of your personal peanut gallery as they picked you up. In the car, JJ put on old girly favorites of the decade’s you’d grown up in, and you and the girls sung your heart out on the way to the boutiques.

Luckily, the first store you stopped at was both to your taste, and having a sale. After a few failed attempts by all of you to fit yourself into something tasteful, yet enticing, you found something. Coming out of the dressing rooms at the same time, you all nearly laughed at the luck of your timing. 

JJ’s dress was an elegant red number. Its neckline was low enough to remind you she was a woman, but conservative enough to convey that she was also an agent.

Penelope’s was, of course, glamorous. Its sequences were sure to shine almost as brightly as her personality, and its silver glow reminded you of moonlight.

Yours was a lovely dark blue that fit your body perfectly. For the first time in a long time, you felt like an adult. You remembered seeing people wear clothes like this on TV and even with some of your parent’s friends; but you’d never thought of yourself as someone who could pull it off. This dress, however, showed you how much you had grown as a person. You weren’t a grad student anymore. You weren’t living with your parents wondering what to do with your life. You were a grown woman with a man you loved, living the life you’d wanted for yourself.

As fate would have it, your dress was ideally placed in your price range. After each purchasing your gowns, you settled into the store’s reception area which had a few couches, and ordered their champagne.

You were talking about the ball, and you mentioned that you and Spencer had been together a year now.

“A year?” Penelope asked. “It feels like more that, doesn’t it? I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“I know,” you smiled. “I feel the same. It just sort of feels like it’s always been this way. That we’ve always been together.”

“Oh! Maybe you have been in another life!” Penelope suggested, finishing off her flute.

“Maybe you’ve had enough champagne,” JJ laughed, taking her empty glass.

“So, will we be shopping for wedding gowns soon?” Penelope asked eagerly.

You chuckled nervously.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. A small hope began to rise inside you. You’d never considered yourself the marrying type… But you’d also never been in love like this before. “Maybe,” you allowed.

“Being married is great,” JJ offered. “It’s like living with your best friend,  _ and _ you get to share health benefits.”

“I do enjoy birth control,” you laughed. The girls looked at each other for a moment and then to you. “What?” you asked.

JJ leaned in towards you.

“What’s it like?” she asked. You pushed your hair nervously behind your ear.

“What?” you chuckled. “Sex?”

“Sorry,” she said, holding up her hand and champagne glass in defense. “It’s the booze talking. I don’t drink too often these days.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, not wanting to push her away or make her feel badly. “It’s nice,” you blushed. “He’s very… It’s lovely.”

You didn’t want to give them specifics, but you could understand why they were curious.

They seemed satisfied with this answer, and continued to other topics, for which you were relieved. The images of a wedding dress still floated in your mind. You thought back to the dream Spencer had shared with you. Was this really a possibility? You used to shudder at the thought of matrimony… but now it didn’t seem so scary; not with your white knight anyway.

You finished up and JJ dropped you back home. You told Spencer to hide his eyes while you stowed the dress safely away for a surprise reveal that weekend. Again you were thankful to the psychopaths of the world for chilling out while you got to spend some time with your man.

The rest of the week passed quickly enough, and before you knew it, it was time for the charity ball. Apparently the funds from each person’s ticket were to go to a nearby children’s hospital. As the evening approached, you banished Spencer and his tux from the bedroom so you could get ready in peace and reveal yourself in the grandest fashion. He was reluctant, as he was looking forward to seeing the dress, but you assured him that the wait would be worth it.

You did your hair and makeup and slipped into the dress. Admiring yourself in the mirror, you took a moment to assess yourself. You were beautiful - and not only because of how the dress hung on you, but the self-confidence which flowed off of you in waves. That was due, in part, to Spencer, and the loving relationship you shared. 

Practically glowing, you announced from behind the door that you were ready, and Spencer encouraged you to come out and let him see you.

You opened the door slowly, your heart beating quickly. When it was opened all the way, he was standing there in an old fashioned tux, like one from the 1920’s, hair combed back in an attempt at a grown-up look, and a large grin on his face. 

For a moment you were to busy checking him out to notice that he’d gone completely slack-jawed. His eyes widened at almost a cartoonish level and you heard a small squeak come from his throat. You chuckled a little and posed for him, then swung around so he could see the low back of the dress.

“You like?” you asked, knowing the answer.

He nodded and stepped toward you on shaky legs. 

“Any comments?” you teased.

He didn’t seem to have heard you, and instead extended trembling hands to your shoulders, smoothing them down your arms as he looked closely at the body of the dress. His hands came to your hands, and he took them in his. Still he said nothing as his eyes drifted back up to yours. This was different from the lingerie stare he had given you so long ago. This wasn’t simply lust, or longing, it was… something else entirely. It seemed as though he were meeting God himself.

“Spencer… say something,” you said nervously, feeling the heavy silence around you.

“I--I--” he stuttered and laughed. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Tu est belle,” he said in a perfect accent.

“You can’t seriously expect to speak French to me in a tux and have me not jump you, can you?” you laughed. 

He dropped your hands for a moment and fidgeted.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, watching his search through his pockets.

“I almost forgot,” he muttered. He searched around aggressively until he found it. Inside his jacket pocket was a thin, rectangular, box.

“A gift?” you asked, surprised.

“It’s just a little something, for the one year,” Spencer said. “Traditionally on anniversaries, gifts are exchanged as tokens of appreciation and love,” he recited.

You took the box tentatively and held it in your hands.

“I… I didn’t even think to get you anything,” you said, embarrassed. He cocked his head to the side, genuinely confused.

“You’ve already given me everything,” he said. It wasn't a line. It wasn’t practiced. It was just Spencer. Practical, logical, Spencer, saying the facts how he saw them.

Trying not to tear up, you took a breath and opened the box. Inside was a small heart pendant. It was simple, made of gold. Not too big, not too little.

He waited for a minute and nervously added, “It’s because of the poem.” He took the necklace out of the box for you and laid it aside. Turning and moving your hair, you allowed him to drape it along your neck and clasp it. “I carry your heart with me… Now you can carry mine with you too,” he said.

“I already do,” you promised. 

“Well, now the world can see it,” he said, taking the pendant and flipping it over to see your initials and his etched into the back with a plus sign between them, as young lovers might do to a tree.

“Spencer,” you breathed, and pulled him into a kiss. Somehow, even though you constantly felt like you were already bursting with it, you felt another surge of affection for him.

You wanted to tear that tux off of him right then and there, but, glancing at the clock, you knew there wasn’t time. Morgan had insisted on picking the two of you up in a limo he had rented and you weren’t about to thwart his plans, especially when he was bringing his new girlfriend along. After the ball, then.

You freed one of your hands from his and threaded it through his hair, combing it back and fixing it for him.

“So handsome,” you mumbled, at which you saw him blush.

Only a few moments later, you heard a knock on your door. Opening it, you saw Morgan standing looking like America’s version of James Bond.

“Snazzy!” you said, pretending to brush some dust off his shoulder.

“Wow,” he said smiling and taking in your dress. He glanced over at Spencer who stood behind you. “Are you aware that you are dating a goddess?” he asked.

“Yes,” Spencer replied simply. Morgan laughed at this and led you out to the waiting limo.

Climbing inside you saw a radiant, carmel-skinned woman sitting on the far side, smiling as you got in after Morgan. He slid gracefully up next to her and grabbed her hand in his.

“This is Savannah,” he introduced the woman to you.

“Hi,” you greeted warmly. Her dress was a gold silk color that complemented her eyes.

Spencer nearly tripped getting into the limo, as if the tux had made his legs two inches longer, but he soon recovered and sat next to you, grinning.

“Spencer,” Savannah greeted. It was clear the two had met before and that Savannah was fond of him.

The four of you drove around and picked up the rest of the team. Penelope was accompanied by her boyfriend, David; JJ brought her husband Will; and Hotch had brought Jack along with him, who wore an adorable kid-sized tux and bow tie.

All of you had to squeeze to fit in the limo, but between good friends, it was fun. You quickly got to know the companions of your friends, tending to wink and make jokes with Jack who was clearly already smitten with you.

Arriving at the banquet hall of the event, you stepped out after Spencer who had offered you his hand. The air was chilly, but fortunately not cold enough to need a jacket. The group walked inside to reveal a beautifully adorned hall. The main floor seemed to be reserved for dancing and was surrounded on all sides by large tables. Four crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and threw light everywhere. Elegant people milled around talking and laughing. It had been a long time since you’d been to an event like this, and you had been a lot younger. This felt real, like an adult thing to do. 

You thought it was Spencer’s hand that slipped into yours, but after a moment you realized it was too small. Looking down, you saw Jack smiling up at you. A glance at Hotch’s apologetic face told you he could not be stopped.

“Spencer’s going to get jealous,” you whispered to Jack.

“Hey, who’s that with my lady?” you heard Spencer’s mock-bravado from behind you. 

Jack giggled uncontrollably and looked back at Spencer.

“I have a new date,” you said to him. He seemed to consider this for a moment and nodded.

“He’s a good man,” he conceded. 

You smiled at Jack and led him to the table you had been assigned. Jack sat on your right and Spencer on your left. The rest of the table was filled out by the group and it was the most amazing table you could have asked for.

The dinner was served soon after an inviting speech by the host, and you dined and talked easily for the first portion of the evening. Every so often you would help Jack hide his vegetables in the tablecloth and then look as innocently as you could at Hotch when he caught you. You’d never really connected with kids before, but Jack was great, and it was clear that Spencer was quite enraptured with watching the two of you for some reason. 

After teasing Jack and ruffling his hair, you caught Spencer looking at you while the rest of the table had been listening to Morgan tell a story.

“What?” you whispered so as not to interrupt the story. 

Spencer shook his head and muttered something that sounded like, “My dream,” but did not elaborate.

Another speaker entered the middle of the floor and gave a small thank you speech about the amount of money raised for the evening. Some kids from the hospital that were going to benefit from such donations followed her on the floor and gave their small, heartfelt gratitude to all of you, melting your hearts completely.

Having had a few glasses of wine with dinner, you were feeling rather flushed and pleasant. The speeches had ended and the music had begun. A live orchestra began to play, filling the hall with thick music. You began to sway in your chair lightly, closing your eyes and just listening. 

You opened them to the sound of chairs and realized everyone at the table was getting up to dance. Glancing over at Spencer, you saw his hands in his lap, nervously fiddling.

“Should we join them?” you asked, fine with either reply. “I don’t really know how to dance,” you admitted sheepishly.

“My mother made me take ballroom dancing lessons when I was little,” Spencer said. “It’s not hard.”

You consented then, and let him lead you to the dance floor where all of your group had already taken their places.They all seemed graceful enough, and suddenly you felt as though your arms and legs were too long for your body. Spencer wrapped one hand around your waist and held out the other for you to take in your hand. Sliding your free hand around his neck, you prepared to make a fool of yourself. 

You waited for the right beat to begin, and you were off. Your stumbling, somewhat drunk feet tried their best to follow Spencer’s strangely assured ones. Apparently he did not notice your stumbling, or it was not as bad as you thought, for he smiled endlessly at you and twirled you around with ease. After the first moments of confusion and muddlement were over, you began to see the pattern and were able to follow along with the moves a little better.

Spencer held you deliciously close, and soon you were dancing cheek to cheek, every so often brushing up against him in a way that sent tingling sensations down your spine. You twirled and danced for the length of the song, finishing with the last note of the orchestra and bowing to Spencer as he did to you.

“You were wonderful,” he said kindly.

“Not compared to you,” you marveled. 

You felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see Morgan and his winning smile.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, as the orchestra started up again. You looked to Spencer and he nodded, letting go of your hand.

“I’d be delighted,” you answered him. Savannah followed Spencer and he took her cautiously in his arms.

His eyes followed you as you and Morgan walked a ways onto the dance floor. He placed his hand on your back respectfully, and you placed yours on his shoulder. Your other hands clasped together and you began the now almost familiar dance pattern. 

“Are you having a fun evening?” Morgan inquired.

“Yes,” you answered. “I would like to get to know Savannah better,” you added. “She seems very nice.”

“She is,” Morgan smiled. “And for the record, you’re very nice too.”

“Well, I try,” you chuckled.

You saw his eyes drift over to Spencer and Savannah. They were laughing and seemed to be having a generally lovely time.

“We’re lucky,” he said softly, pulling you out of the trance the silence had caused.

“Yeah we are,” you replied.

“No, I meant Spencer and I,” he explained. “To have such… understanding women.”

“It’s not so hard,” you offered. 

“Maybe not for Savannah, but for you…” he trailed off, seemingly to find the best way to phrase his next sentence. “Reid’s different than the rest of us. I’m sure you know that,” he said. You frowned, unsure, but let him continue. “I just think… I’m glad he has you, you know? And I wanted to tell you that because it might be hard at times.”

“I suppose,” you admitted, thinking of the fight before Spencer got shot. “He doesn’t always share what’s happening in that big brain of his.”

“Exactly,” Morgan agreed. “I need you to be careful with him. I trust you, and I know you care for him… But sometimes that isn’t enough,” he said. “There’s going to be times when he’ll push you away, maybe because he’s scared, maybe because he’s trying to protect you.”

“You sound like you’ve seen this before,” you noticed.

“Not with him,” he said. “But with others.And it could and might happen. Just know that you’re the best thing for him.”

“He’s the best thing for me,” you added.

“Good,” Morgan smiled. “I’m sorry to bring this up like this, but we don’t get to talk so often. He’s like a brother to me… A weird, gangly younger brother,” he laughed. “And now that I have someone else looking out for him, making sure he’s okay…”

You wondered if Spencer had shared his fears about schizophrenia with him, but didn’t press it.

“I’ll take care of him,” you promised. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, seeming relieved. You wondered if this had been unclear before. “Is there a reason you’re asking me this now?” you asked. “Nothing’s really changed, has it?”

Morgan shifted, not uncomfortably, but as if he knew something more than he was telling.

“No,” he said. Then, with a cocky smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

Before you could question his motives for the inquiry further, he dipped you, eliciting an excited yelp from you. Laughing, he pulled you upright as the song ended. Soon afterwards, you were in Spencer’s arms again, laughing and dancing the night away. In the middle of one dance, you felt a small tug near the hip of your dress. Looking down, you saw Jack.

“May I cut in?” he asked in his best impression of an adult.

“Of course,” you said, leaving Spencer’s smiling face and turning to Jack’s serious-looking one. Hotch joined Spencer on the side of the dance floor and watched with him as you and Jack spun around, twirled, and danced with each other.

When the song ended, you led him over to Hotch and Spencer.

“It’s past your bedtime, mister,” Hotch said, glancing at his watch.

You yawned simultaneously with this statement and Spencer laughed.

“Is it your bedtime too?” he asked.

“Apparently,” you smiled. 

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” Jack pleaded.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Hotch apologized. 

“Do you want to head out soon?” Spencer asked. You had been there quite a few hours after all. You nodded.

“We’re leaving too, Jack,” you offered, trying to make Hotch’s life easier.

“Really?” he asked. 

“Really,” you assured him. 

“When will I see you again?” he asked.

“Soon, I hope,” you said. squatting down to his level for a hug. He held on to you tightly as the boys looked on with fond smiles. “Alright,” you said, breaking the embrace. “Go get some sleep!”

With a last tousle of his hair, you bid him and Hotch a good night as they went to find a cab home. The rest of the group was sad to see you go, but wished you a good rest of the night as you did for them.

Spencer called a cab and you were on your way home shortly. You played with your necklace in the cab and looked at Spencer. Oh, Spencer, with his old fashioned tux and unruly hair. You entwined your hand with his, drawing his attention away from the passing landscape of the city. You remained silent until you arrived at your building. Spencer paid the driver and you went up to the apartment. Laying your bag on the table, you took a few bobby pins out of your hair and let it fall naturally around your shoulders. Your curls had straightened out a bit and you could feel the layer of sweat that had formed from dancing. Spencer was undoing his bow tie and you watched him with sudden fascination. 

“You looked so hot tonight,” you said. “As ineloquent as that sounds, it’s the truth,” you said, not concealing your roving eyes. 

Spencer laughed.

“When I said you were beautiful, that was an understatement,” he said. You looked confused. 

“When did you say that?”

“Tu est belle,” he repeated from earlier. “English did not seem adequate… Although I am not sure that French--”

You cut him off with a kiss that nearly knocked him over the couch. He caught himself quickly, and wrapped his arms around your lower back. You could feel him on your bare skin because of the low cut of the dress. His hands began to roam your body as your tongue began to explore his mouth. You stumbled backwards, blindly searching for the bedroom, trying not to part from his lips. You made it with his assistance, now nearly panting with desire for him. You helped him shed his jacket and quickly began work on the buttons of his shirt. Needing to break the kiss to see this, you did your best to rip it off as quickly as possible, then joining your lips back with his.

His pants were next, and you could do that without looking. Starting to get dizzy with his kiss, you felt the back of your legs hit the bed. You slipped the straps of your dress off your body and rid yourself of your undergarments. Now, standing before him, you wore only your heart pendant.

“How did I get so lucky?” Spencer mumbled, seemingly to himself.

You were the one feel exceptionally loved and lucky at this point, but had little sense to formulate words in your present state. You crushed your lips back down on his, pulling his bare body close to you and feeling an energy swell inside you.

The two of you scrambled backwards, onto the bed. He was already pretty hard, and began to rub against you, causing you to moan into his mouth. You opened your legs wide for him and he slid himself inside you, filling you up as you clutched him against your body.

“I love you,” he breathed over and over again as he thrust into you. You weren’t sure he was aware he was saying anything, but you repeated the words back to him in the same, breathless fashion.

It almost seemed like one of those scenes in a movie where something happens and the world slows down around the character. You saw Spencer above you, red in his cheeks, his hair wild and floppy. You felt his lips touch yours again and again on your lips, your neck, everywhere. You felt every muscle in his back move, strain, as he buried himself within you. Your blood rushed in your ears, you could smell his scent around you, feel his breath against your skin. All of this seemingly in perfect slow motion, culminating in a rush of time and feeling as you both came together in a muttering of each others names through the haze of passion.

Coming down from the high, Spencer pulled out of you, kissing your forehead sweetly, and lying beside you. Neither of you moved for a moment. You listened to your heartbeat return to normal.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer asked, after observing you in silence for some time.

“Just listening to my heartbeat,” you explained. “I-AM, I-AM, I-AM,” you quoted Sylvia Plath.

Spencer smiled.    
“Or rather… WE-ARE, WE-ARE, WE-ARE,” you amended, for he was as much a part of your heartbeat as your own blood.

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again,” Spencer added to “The Bell Jar” quotes. 

You looked at him, and for a moment, it seemed quite like a dream. Were you really in bed with this insanely intelligent man who had just quoted one of your favorite authors?

You sighed contentedly and snuggled in closer to him. You could feel the cool metal of the pendant against your skin as you pressed yourself against him, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the e. e. cummings poem is in it too much, I'm just obsessed with it lately.  
> Also the FBI building background is taken directly from Wikipedia :)  
> Thanks for the continued support! There's more good things to come soon!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the dumbest, most romantic thing I've written. I hope you enjoy it.

Before you knew it, Spencer was off with the team on another case in Chicago. You missed him, of course, but the time apart wasn’t so bad. You were getting used to it, and with technology it sometimes felt like he was right down the street instead of a few states away. You did your best to help him manage his anxieties while he was on the case, for which Morgan sent you thankful texts. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with the bookstore, and writing your novel. You’d finally nailed down a story that you were happy with. Not surprisingly, the characters were reflective of yourself and Spencer, in a love story. It was a fantasy novel set in another world, but the characteristics were there, and you wondered if he read it, whether he would appreciate his portrayal or not.

Two weeks went by before they caught the unsub this time, and your apartment had started to get pretty lonely. He had called you the day after they caught the guy. 

“I’ll be heading home pretty soon,” he said. 

You sighed wistfully, happy, but wishing he could be home now.

“When does the plane leave?” you asked.

Before he could answer you heard something in the background.

“I’ll ask him,” the voice said. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that was your father’s voice.

“Hey, Spencer!” you heard the voice say. It was distorted, in the background, and you heard the phone rustle for a moment before Spencer spoke.

“Was that my father?” you asked him.

Spencer cleared his throat.

“What? No,” he said hastily. “That was Hotch,” he said. You heard something thumping in the background again and wondered what was going on.

“Oh,” you said, perplexed. “He sounded just like him.”

“Must be the connection,” Spencer suggested.

“I guess,” you murmured, your mind drifting to other things.

“So what do you wanna do when you get home?” you asked.

“Anything,” he seemed relieved for some reason. “Maybe a field trip somewhere fun?” he suggested.

“Sure,” you smiled. “Name the place.”

“I have one in mind,” he said mischievously. You wondered what was up with him, but didn’t press it.

“Okay,” was your reply. You made your goodbyes and hung up, excited to see him the following day.

The jet came in a little earlier than scheduled, and you were thrilled when he walked through the door nearly an hour earlier than you had expected. Setting his bag down by the door, he waited with open arms for you to launch yourself at him. Once he was sufficiently hugged and kissed, you let him put his things in your room and settle down on the couch with you.

“Are you ready for our trip tomorrow?” he asked.

“Don’t you want to settle in and chill a little bit?” you suggested. “You just got back.”

“No,” he said quickly. “I want to do this very soon.”

You laughed, unsure why he was so into whatever place this was.

“Why? Is it like the chess hall of fame or something?” you chided.

“That’s in Missouri,” he said. “We’re staying in Maryland.

“Oh, okay,” you said. “And what’s in Maryland?”

“A library,” he said, his eyes wide. 

“With books?” you jested.

“So many books,” he smiled. “It’s one of the top ten libraries in the U.S.”

“Sounds like fun to me!” you got excited. “What made you want to go there?”

“You,” he said. 

You didn’t understand how you had spurred this idea, but took it as a compliment nonetheless. You packed a bag with him and planned to leave after breakfast the following morning.

Laying in bed with him that night, softly playing with his hair while he looked at you dreamily, you sighed.

“I could just live in this bed with you,” you decided. 

“You do,” he laughed.

“No, I mean like if it were possible to not leave this bed at all, I would do it.”

“A person can go without water for a few days, and without food for a while longer,” he said. “But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Plus we have those pesky bills to pay, and innocent people to save,” you added drolly. 

“True,” he said. “But at least we get times like these.”

He kissed your forehead gently and smiled.

“Do you know, you make me so happy?” he whispered.

You felt a rush of glee fill every corner of your soul.

“I do,” you blushed. “Do you know that you make me very happy too?” you asked.

“I had an idea of that, yeah,” he smiled.

It was a dumb, cheesy moment, but you couldn’t stop the smile on your face. 

“We should probably get some sleep, we have a few hours to drive tomorrow,” he noted, looking at the clock. You sighed.

“Sometimes I wish you really were Superman, or something of the kind, and you could just fly us places.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he replied. 

“That’s okay, just means we’ll have to argue over who chooses the music on the way down,” you teased. “I am  _ not _ listening to Mozart for five hours, let me tell you.”

Spencer made to make an argument, but you cut him off with a kiss. Somehow, through his moaning and writhing beneath you, you figured you could have your choice of music any time.

True to the prior evening’s assumption, Spencer was more than happy to have you pick the music as the two of you drove down to the Peabody Library. The ride was long, but you and Spencer filled the time talking about your favorite books and wondering if the library would have them when you got there. He seemed anxious to get there, and, despite your assurances that you were driving as fast as you could, he still fidgeted relentlessly.

“Did you have too much coffee this morning?” you asked with a sly smile.

“No,” he answered. “Just excited.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, unconvinced. There was something in his manner that was different, and you had no idea why. There must be some crazy science book he was excited to look at.

You finally made it down there and parked. It was a little after lunch so you grabbed some food quickly before heading into the library. Walking inside, your jaw dropped. Spencer looked on with quiet satisfaction. You hadn’t been expecting the grandeur of it all. There were at least five floors, all presumably holding infinite knowledge and expressions of incalculable emotions.

“Oh… My…” you wondered, walking slowly into the library. 

It was quiet, but there were whispers here and there; the smell of books was nearly overwhelming and you wanted to live in this space.

“I take it you like it, then?” Spencer whispered. You didn’t realize he was so close behind you and nearly jumped.

You nodded, unable to think of words. You wandered around as he tagged along by the pull of your hand. He seemed to want to say something, as every time you would look over at him he looked anxious to be somewhere else.

“What’s wrong?” you asked quietly. “Is there a section you want to look at?”

“Yes,” he answered breathlessly, seeming rather relieved. You chuckled.

“You could have just said so,” you smiled.

He led you to the top most floor and quickly made his way to the end of a shelf in the back corner of the library. This wasn’t the section for science, engineering, or anything else that you had anticipated he would be most eager to visit. In fact, it was fantasy, something Spencer didn’t particularly dwell in. You looked at him quizzically as he searched for a specific title.

“What are you looking for?” you asked.

“Something…” he said distractedly.

“That’s helpful,” you muttered, wondering what was so important as to require his complete attention.

Finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, he pulled out a small, leatherbound book. He held it out for you to see. 

“Would you read this to me?” he asked. 

You looked around the nearly-silent library.

“I don’t think that’s really allowed,” you answered. 

He looked around as well, nervously, and you noticed he was sweating.

“Are you feeling okay?” you asked, moving to test his temperature with the back of your hand on his forehead.

He laughed, a strange, high pitched laugh.

“I will be,” he answered. “I think…” he added, dropping his eyes to the book. He once again held it out to you. “Please?” he insisted. “Just the first few pages. We can hide away in this corner so we don’t disturb anyone,” he promised.

You shook your head and chuckled. 

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “If it would make you happy.”

“I believe it would,” he answered. There was something in his gaze - an unwarranted seriousness.

You took his hand and led him to the back wall. You were surrounded by books on two sides, the wall behind you, and the hallway at the end of the aisle in front of you. You tucked your legs under you and got comfortable. Spencer sat down next to you, touching his knee to yours. You could almost feel him vibrating with energy. You noted to check his bag for pixie sticks before you left.

Smoothing over the leather cover, you saw in lovely gilded letters, “The Story of Us” printed on the cover. There was no visible author printed.

“I’ve never heard of this one before,” you noticed. “Is it something from your childhood?” you guessed.

“No,” he answered. “But it is my favorite story.”

Smiling, you opened to the first page. The print was larger than you had expected, printed neatly on the page. There was no publication information or any kind of introduction, or mention of an author inside. Furrowing your brow, you made to move the book, and flip through it, but Spencer’s hands quickly caught yours before you could flip a page.

“Just… read?” he suggested. You quirked an eyebrow, but his pleading gaze soon had you consenting.

“Okay,” you said, wondering what in the world was going on with him. You took a breath and began reading. “There once was a boy who was very smart. So smart, in fact, that he thought he would alone with his big brain forever. None of the other kids wanted to play with him, and no one really understood him. So alone was this boy, that when when a girl came into his life, he didn’t let himself believe that it were possible to feel that well-connected to another person. He tried to deny it, but the more he saw her, the more in love and the less alone he felt.”

You were starting to see why this was Spencer’s favorite story, he could easily relate to this boy. Spencer looked at you expectantly, so you kept reading in a low voice.

“And when he found that she loved him just as much, his heart felt five times too big for his body. He knew that he could never be without her, and so he asked her to marry him, and she said…”

The page ended, and you turned to continue reading. However, instead of finding more words on the next page, you found the empty pages of the book had been carved. A small rectangular hole was nestled inside the book, and in it, a ring.

Your hands were shaking, you nearly dropped the book. Spencer took your shaking hand in his as the book lay balanced on your knee.

“Spence…” you barely found your breath.

He laughed nervously and took the ring out of the book.

“The only thing missing from my favorite story, is a happy ending,” he said quietly, holding the ring. It was trembling nearly as violently as you were. “Will you be mine?” he asked, his voice cracking.

You looked at this man. This man who had held you, saved you, loved you, become a part of you. You looked at his searching, gentle eyes, his nervous hands, his hopeful countenance.

“Of course,” you nearly cried.

You let him slip the ring, a simple, but elegant diamond, onto your finger before flinging yourself onto him, capturing his mouth with yours and trying to convey in the embrace, everything you felt for him in that moment. 

After a few minutes, you both pulled away, panting and flushed. You gazed at the ring in bewilderment.

“How?” you asked, picking up the book to look at it again.

He smiled broadly and held the book in his hands.

“Well, do you remember that time when you believed you heard your father on the phone, and I told you it was Hotch?” he asked. You nodded. “It was your father,” he said. He looked down at the book bashfully. “I wanted to ask for their blessing,” he admitted. “Your mother nearly cried,” he added. 

“That’s so old fashioned of you,” you smiled. “I love it. What about the book?”

“Handmade, hidden back here,” he said. “I was so nervous someone would find it before we got up here. I couldn’t keep it down on the first floors because they’re too populated. But then you wanted to wander around, which I should have anticipated...:”

You chuckled and pulled him in for another kiss.

“It was perfect,” you smiled. “I knew you were acting weird for a reason. I thought you were supposed to be cool under pressure,” you teased. 

“Not this kind of pressure,” he let out a relieved breath. He laid his head back against the wall. “I feel like I’ve just run a marathon,” he laughed softly.

His phone buzzed just then, and your heart sank for a moment, thinking it was him being called to a case. He smiled at the message, however, and looked up at you. He showed you the screen. Morgan had texted:

_ WHAT DID SHE SAY, PRETTY BOY? _

You laughed and took the phone, turning on the camera to the front view and taking a picture of you wearing the ring. You sent it and waited for a response. Shortly he responded:

_ CONGRATULATIONS, YOU CRAZY KIDS! _

“He knew?” you asked.

Spencer nodded. 

“He’s been asking me when I was going to propose to you since the first time he met you,” he laughed.

You blushed, feeling completely honored that he thought so highly of you so soon. Although you had plenty of confidence yourself, for some reason, Morgan’s faith in  your relationship, and from such an early state, reinforced your decision of your engagement.

Another text came in from Morgan:

_ If you guys get back not too late, dinner’s on me. _

You looked at the time and noted that even if you left now, it would be pretty late when you got back home. You decided on a rain check for the following evening.

“Do the others know?” you asked, wondering if you could do some kind of surprise reveal.

“Just Morgan,” Spencer answered.

“Awesome,” you smiled. “I cannot wait to tell everyone!”

He stared at you, almost unbelieving, searching your eyes for something. You remembered that look from the beginning of your relationship - that unbelieving, almost worshipping look. You wished he could know that as happy and surreal a moment as this was for him, it was equal in all ways for you.

The light changed around you, and after a moment, you realized it was because someone had walked into the aisle and was casting a shadow. The woman stared, confused, at the two random nerds sitting in the corner mooning over each other, and quickly left the aisle. The two of you giggled and stood up, your legs feeling more solid than the flutter of butterflies in your stomach that still had not left.

“Honestly, I’m not even sure I will ever read another book again,” you said, looking around at all the novels and pages unread. 

“That’s not true,” Spencer rolled his eyes. 

“Well, certainly none will compare with this,” you motioned to the book in your hand.

The two of you spent the rest of the day wandering around the library, feeling the old books, and just basking in the brilliance of the building. When you decided to call it a day, you drove home, stopping to pick up some food and fill up for gas. On the ride home, you called your parents and spent the majority of the time going over the details of the event with your mother who insisted on a play by play account. Your father congratulated the two of you, and you felt extremely lucky to have such supportive parents.

When you had hung up, something occurred to you.

“Have you told your parents yet?” you asked Spencer.

“My mom knows I had planned to ask,” he said. “I still haven’t spoken to my father in a long time.”

You took his hand in yours.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” you assured him. He sighed heavily and smiled.

The remainder of the ride home was spent in a comfortable silence listening to Mozart.

The trip had been emotionally exhausting, not the mention the wear of travel, so when you collapsed on your bed, you merely felt him wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him.

“Mrs. Spencer Reid,” he murmured. “I never in my life thought that would happen to me.”

“Me either, for me, I mean,” you added honestly.

You gazed sleepily at the ring on your finger, and felt the heart pendant still smooth against your skin and smiled to yourself. You’d never imagined this much happiness existed for one person.

The following day was a Sunday, and you gladly spent the morning making love to Spencer, followed by an afternoon of reading and lazing around with him. You made plans with the team to have dinner, although Morgan was the only one who knew why, that evening. You were excited to see the rest of the team’s reaction to the engagement. You predicted that the wind would probably be squeezed out of you from all the hugs you would get.

At last the night came, and you gathered at a little Chinese place nearby. Once the gang had eaten and were relaxing with their drinks, you casually laid your left hand, which had thus far been hidden under the table, next to your plate. You grabbed Spencer’s hand with your other hand and took a deep breath. Excitement swelled up inside you like a storm.

You cleared your throat and Morgan helped gather their attention by tapping his fork on his glass lightly. The team quieted and looked at you.

“I um… We have an announcement,” you blushed furious. You looked at Spencer. “We’re getting married,” you said.

Saying those words, hearing it said in front of people, put you in a sort of bubble. The table exploded with congratulations and questions about how it happened, but you just looked at Spencer, and he at you, lost in your own world for a moment.

Pulling yourself back, you saw Penelope had stood and run over to you and was bouncing on the balls of her feet, waiting for a hug. You laughed and stood to hug her, which soon inspired the rest of the team to do so, giving you their congratulations in your ear. They then went to Spencer, and though he offered them his hand, they all hugged him tightly.

After giving the account of the event, listening to the swoons of JJ and Penelope, and the approving sounds of Morgan and Hotch, things returned to a somewhat normal state.

“Have you set a date?” JJ asked.

“JJ, they just got engaged,” Morgan reminded her.

“Well, the sooner the better, you belong together,” Hotch said, raising his glass.

“Cheers to that,” you smiled as everyone clinked their glasses together.

As the night went on, you found yourself gazing at your ring. It was simple, small, but held the most compelling and valuable fate you had ever imagined within it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love! Things are happy now, but some angst is on its way, just gotta figure out semantics but it hopefully won't take too long.
> 
> (Also just a personal side note - for those of you who wanted/expected more smut, I apologize. I'm demi/ace so it's hard for me to write those kinds of scenes, but I know they're important in most relationships so if you feel like there's not enough, let me know and I'll do my best!)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright time for some trouble in paradise...

You’d never been one to dwell on wedding fantasies in the past. Other friends might have asked you what your dream wedding was, and your response was always something vague like “fantasy” or “beach” to let them feel satisfied to share every little detail of their ideas. Now, more often than you’d cared to admit, you were thinking about it. Nothing big, or crazy, just what you would say in your vows, what song you’d want to dance to, what the honeymoon would be like.

Walter found you staring into space one day at work and clasped his hand around yours, moving your ring back and forth with his finger.

“This is a nice ring,” he said. “Delicate, but strong, like you.”

You smiled at him kindly. 

“How long have you been with this young man?” he asked.

“A little over a year,” you answered. Walter frowned.

“That’s not much time,” he murmured.

“After what we’ve been through together, it already feels like a lifetime, I promise you,” you chuckled.

“I suppose time is measured in quality rather than quantity with some,” he mused.

“Will you come to the wedding?” you asked. “Frank too, of course.”

“We would be honored,” he said, kissing your hand sweetly. 

Walter left soon after that, leaving you with your journal and your thoughts. The bookstore was nearly empty, so you continued with the outline of your novel. You were proud of yourself for having finally decided on a storyline and were planning on starting the actual writing process very soon. You were doodling on the sides of the pages when a woman walked in. She was probably about 45 years old with bleached blonde hair and black roots. At first she gave you the chills for some reason. There was something in the way she was looking at you that set you on edge…  But she smiled as she walked in, and you dropped your guard.

“Welcome,” you said. 

She nodded and began perusing the aisles while you went back to your doodling/outlining.

A few moments later she came up with a small book, and placed it in front of you.

“Is that all?” you asked, grabbing the book with your hand.

“Oh yes,” she said. “My, what a lovely ring,” she remarked.

You blushed.

“Oh, thank you, I just got engaged.”

“Congratulations,” she said. “Who’s the lucky lad or lady?”

“My boyfriend, Spencer,” you said. You felt giddy just talking about it.

“Well, you must be very happy with him,” she smiled. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, taking the money she held out to you.

“Well, all the best,” she said, taking her book from you. She waited a moment more than she needed to, looking at you closely, before she took her leave.

The rest of the day consisted of only a few customers, and you actually managed to finish your outline. You had Spencer home for a few days after the engagement, but all too soon he was called away to go fight crime in another state. You wondered if he ever felt defeated; one moment he was handcuffing a guy, the next there’s six more doing even worse things. You treated yourself to some ice cream on the way home and curled up in bed to watch some comfort movies. Spencer called in the middle of one of them, and the two of you caught up on what you’d been doing since the last phone call. You signed off with the usual “I love you,” and resumed your movie. 

There were a few uneventful days before Spencer returned home, having caught a man whose idea of a good time was keeping women in a closet for a week and then killing them. Sometimes you forgot what awful things those eyes saw when you looked into them. How could he see all that blood and horror, and still come home with the eyes of a puppy dog, nearly jumping with excitement to see you? 

Pushing the thoughts aside, you made dinner with Spencer, although he made it nearly impossibly by clinging to you the entire time. Once you’d finished, the two of you decided to eat on the couch and lounge together. It occurred to you every time you looked at your ring, that this would happen for the rest of your lives. And maybe he wouldn’t always be running around chasing criminals, maybe one day he would settle down and teach or something. You could see the two of you growing old together, and it was the first time that had ever happened with anyone.

After you had gone to bed, a call woke the two of you in the middle of the night. Since you were closest to his phone, you grabbed it blindly and answered it to make the noise go away.

“Hello?” you grumbled.

Spencer rolled over and groped for the phone, too tired to open his eyes.

“(Y/N)?” you heard Hotch’s serious voice.

“Sorry, I was closer to the phone than Spence, here he is,” you said.

“No, wait,” Hotch stopped you, you kept the phone close to your ear. “I need you both to come in, actually, right away,” he said sternly. 

You opened your eyes all the way and sat up, suddenly very awake.

“Why?” you asked, “What’s wrong?” 

What could they possibly need  _ you _ for?

Spencer sat up too, realizing something was wrong.

“I’ll explain when you get here,” he said gravely.

He hung up and you turned to Spencer.

“Hotch said for both of us to go in,” you explained. 

“It’s 4am,” Spencer observed. “What could possibly be so urgent, and for you to come in too?”

“My worries exactly,” you bit your lip in concern.

When the two of you were dressed, you headed to the FBI building in silence. It was still dark, and there was next to no one out on the streets. A few agents hung around the building, but you rode up in the elevator alone with Spencer, and walked into their bullpen together.

Hotch greeted you at the door, his face tired and grim. Walking further into the room, you saw that Savannah, Jack, and David were there too. Was this some strange sort of party? Jack’s face lit up when he saw you, and he ran to you. You knelt down to embrace him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Once you were settled, Hotch left Jack with JJ and brought the rest of you into the conference room. You all sat around the table sharing questioning glances with the other non-agents.

“I’m sorry to have brought you all here,” Hotch said, walking towards the TV at the end of the room. “Will would have been here too, but he’s out of the country right now, and therefore, we believe, safe.”

“Safe?” Savannah asked. “Does that mean we aren’t for some reason?”

Penelope stood and pointed her clicker at the screen, her hand shaking. She pressed five buttons, and five pictures came up. There was an African American woman, two white males, a boy, and a young woman. It took you a moment to realize why they looked so familiar grouped together like that. Your gasp was followed by several others.

“Hotch, explain,” Spencer’s voice was barely contained. You took his hand under the table.

“We’ll spare you the pictures that we have,” Penelope started, “But these people were found dead on this building’s grounds just an hour ago,” she said. “They were found under a plaque dedicated to the BAU.”

She pulled up another picture which had been clearly cropped. It was a sign, hung around something that was out of frame. It read, “You took mine, I take yours,” in scribbled hand writing.

“What is this about?” Savannah asked, turning to Morgan. “Those people look--”

“We believe they are surrogates,” Hotch interrupted. “Whomever did this plans to target the loved ones of the BAU.” 

Your stomach sank as you looked at the boy in the photo, and then to Jack out in the bullpen. They were both so young. You felt your body go cold and numb as your mind tried to process this. Your eyes drifted to the young woman’s picture…

“As of right now, you’re all under the protection of the FBI,” Hotch said. “You’ll have round the clock details to protect you until we find this person.”

“Hotch, it could be  _ anyone, _ ” Morgan said desperately. “Hundreds of unsubs, not to mention the friends of families of those unsubs, or the families of the victims that we couldn’t save…” he trailed off, realizing how impossible the situation really was.

“The syntax of the sentence, ‘You took mine, I take yours,’ is very simplistic in its design. Judging by the choice of words, and handwriting analysis, I’d say we’re dealing with a woman,” Spencer said mechanically. “Most likely we put away her lover.”

“Since Hotch isn’t seeing anyone, the unsub targeted the next best thing,” Morgan spoke solemnly.

“He’s just a child,” you muttered.

There was a moment of silence followed by an almost synchronized sigh by the group.

“What do we think is her plan?” Spencer asked.

“This was clearly a heavy threat, she’s not afraid to kill,” Morgan observed. “I would even venture so far to say she has sociopathic tendencies since there was no remorse shown for killing a child.”

“Agreed,” Hotch consented. 

“So what’s the plan?” David asked. “How do we catch this guy… Girl... Woman, sorry,” he stuttered.

“This is most likely brought up by an anniversary of either a death or a conviction. Garcia, start by searching for deaths and convictions of unsubs we’ve caught within a month of today’s date,” Spencer suggested.

“We can look into forensics for more clues, but for the time being, we need to get you all to a safe place,” Hotch nodded out the window at JJ. She nodded in return and Penelope turned off the TV. 

JJ brought Jack into the room, and he immediately sped towards you. You let him climb into your lap. You cast a glance towards Spencer but he was staring at the table. 

“We’ll set each of you up in the hotel nearest to the FBI. You’ll all have separate rooms and separate police detail,” Hotch said. “We’ve called your respective employers and explained everything.”

“We’re going to a hotel!” Jack said merrily. You tried to smile at him, but your face seemed frozen.

There was an unspoken notion that the meeting was over, and everyone stood. You set Jack on the floor and he held onto your hand, which, you were surprised to find, was more comforting than you had anticipated. Spencer didn’t look at you as made his way after Penelope, following her to wherever she did her research. You longed for him to hold you, for him to tell you that everything was going to be okay… But you supposed he had to catch the person first in order not to be lying.

Morgan walked up to Hotch who was standing with both hands on the table, head hung, eyes closed. He put his hand on Hotch’s shoulder.

“It won’t happen again, man. I promise,” he said softly, almost so you couldn’t hear.

“You don’t know that,” he answered, and raised his gaze to Jack. “I can’t lose him,” he added desperately. 

You had turned away before Hotch’s gaze turned in your direction, still, you felt like you had overheard something very personal. What had happened before?

Savannah stood next to you and laid her hand on your arm.

“Coffee?” she asked.

You nodded, and motioned to Morgan that you were heading back out to the bullpen. You followed her to the coffee pot and stood, dazed, next to it, trying to remember how to do anything other than be terrified.

“Sugar?” she asked, pouring you a cup after she saw you clearly couldn’t.

“What? Yeah, please,” you said. Jack stood by your side quietly, watching the two of you.

“Jack, come here please,” Hotch said from across the room. 

You looked over for a moment and then returned your attention to Savannah who was giving you your cup.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she whispered. You sighed.

“This isn’t even the first time this has happened to me,” you admitted. She quirked an eyebrow. “That’s how Spencer and I met. There was this serial killer, he was protecting me, and it just sort of happened.” She gave a soft smile. “I thought it would never happen again.”

The feelings of being trapped and hunted were already coming back to you.

“They’ll take care of it,” she said assuredly. 

You wished you felt as confident as she sounded. At least you didn’t have to be alone this time. Not only were there other people in the same situation, but you and Spencer were together this time. Surely that would help.

Just then, you saw Spencer come in from the doors from the elevator and cross the room to Hotch. He whispered something to him and started walking away. You thought he would come over and at least say hi to you, tell you that everything would be fine, that he would take care of it, but he didn’t even look over at you before heading out the doors and back into the elevator, his eyes on his shoes.

You felt hurt. It almost seemed like he was avoiding you. Maybe this was just how he started a case. You realized you’d never been with him when he had started one. Sipping your coffee, you were warmed by the liquid, but not calmed.

Hotch came over with Morgan, JJ, and Jack trailing behind him.

“We’re ready to move you to the hotel,” Hotch said. The usual warmness you’d grown accustomed to in social situations was replaced by a serious, almost robotic tone. “Morgan and JJ will take you there.”

The group made their way towards the door, but you stayed a little behind and edged towards Hotch. 

“Is Spencer going?” you asked quietly. 

“He is staying with Garcia to go over specifics of older files that aren’t specified digitally. His memory has cases from before we worked here that might be useful,” he said. 

“Oh… Right,” you muttered. 

“I’m sure he’ll call the first chance he has,” Hotch said apologetically.

You nodded, but the tightness in your chest begged you to think otherwise. You walked numbly towards the elevator and through the doors as Morgan held them open for you. Jack took your hand again and you squeezed it lovingly.

The ride to the hotel was quick, and you were all soon settled. You had a single room that was fairly small. There was a TV and a bathroom along with the bed and dresser, but that was about it. You met Agent Carter who would be positioned outside your door for the evening.

It had been a stressful morning to say the least. The rest of the group was napping in their individual rooms. Morgan and JJ had returned to the unit to continue profiling, leaving you alone with only the TV for company.

You considered sending a text, but realized you couldn’t find your phone. You must have forgotten to grab it on the way to the bureau. 

You felt reasonably safe with the armed guard out front, but that did not save you from feeling infinitely alone. You longed for something from Spencer - a text, a call, something. A hug would have done a world of good… But you waited in vain the whole day.

Around dinner time there was a knock at your door.

“It’s me,” Spencer’s voice came through the door. 

You rushed to open it, and found him standing there with a haggard, tired, look on his face. He walked in slowly, not looking at you. You would have hugged him immediately, but something about his demeanor put you off. There was something wrong. Thinking it might just be the situation that was affecting him, you tried to be reassuring.

“You will find her,” you said.

He was pacing the room in agitation.

“I can’t believe it’s happening again,” he said. You could sense the beginning of a kind of rant.

“Hazards of the job,” you shrugged. It wasn’t his fault this was happening.

“My job,” he said, “Not yours.”

He still wouldn’t look at you and was breathing heavily, wringing his hands together.

“Hey,” you stepped forward, reaching out your hand to try and calm him. “It’s okay. As weird as it sounds, I don’t mind,” you promised. “We’ll figure this out and everything will be fine.”

“No,” he said, biting his lip. “It will never be fine.”

He finally looked at you, and all you saw was pure desperation.

“I guess I had forgotten the danger you were in just being with me because of how we met, like somehow that fulfilled your quota for danger. How could I have been so naive?” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said, disliking where the conversation was heading.

“It is, though!” Spencer replied almost madly. “I put you in danger. Constantly. I’m surprised something worse hasn’t happened before now.” He started muttering under his breath something like, “How could I have thought I deserved this?”

“Slow down,” you pleaded, finally gathering the courage to stop him from pacing. He stopped, but stepped away from your touch.

“Every second I’m with you, you’re in danger,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” you countered. “You protect me constantly.”

“What if it’s not enough?” he asked. “What if I’m not enough? I couldn’t live with myself if something happened.”

“Yes, you could,” you tried to stay calm. “Because it wouldn’t have been your fault.”

He shook his head, clearly not really listening to you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said quietly, looking down at his shoes.

“What?”

“I can’t put you in danger anymore. Even if I quit my job now, there are still hundreds of people that might eventually come after me because of cases I’ve worked in the past.”

You didn’t understand the words he was saying.

“I have to go away,” he said after a long pause. “I’ll move out. The lease is up at the end of the month anyway, it’s your choice to renew or not.” He said all this mechanically.

“What are you talking about?” you implored. “We’re not breaking up.”

“Yes,” he said. “This is me saving you.”

You nearly laughed with all the tension building inside you.

“That’s the most cliche superhero move ever, you know that right?” you pointed out. “Just because you break up with me, doesn’t mean Luther’s going to suddenly back off.”

“Maybe not this villain, but the next, and the one after that,” he said simply. “You can’t lose if you have nothing to lose.”

You tried to touch him, to lay your hands on his shoulder, but he stepped back at every advance as though you were made of poison.

“What’s Morgan doing?” you asked, thinking of Savannah.

“What does that matter?” he asked. 

“What is he doing?” you repeated. “What’s Hotch doing?”

He looked away from you and sighed.

“They’re staying with the ones they love, protecting them, aren’t they?” you asked.

“That’s not the same!” he snapped.

“How?” you asked.

“Because they don’t love them like I love you!” he nearly screamed. He covered his mouth like he hadn’t meant to say it. “Besides, Hotch is a father, he doesn’t have a choice.”

“What happened to Hotch?” you asked. “I heard Morgan saying something about him being in a similar situation a while ago?”

Spencer sighed, exasperated.

“His ex wife was murdered by a serial killer… We couldn’t get to her in time,” he said morosely.

“Oh my god,” you said, taking a seat on the bed. The air had been knocked out of your lungs.

“And I will  _ not _ have that happen to me,” Spencer’s voice cracked. “I will  _ not _ have that happen to  _ you _ .”

You gulped, pausing for a moment to  think about the situation.

“You said ex,” you noticed.

“Yes,” he said.

“Ex wife. Meaning they weren’t together,” you said.

Spencer shook his head, seeing where you were going.

“You’re going to argue that their not being legally connected didn’t make her any less vulnerable,” he spoke rapidly.

“Yes,” you answered.

“He still loved her though,” Spencer said.

You stood up angrily.

“So, what? You’re just going to stop loving me after all this?” you threw your hands in the air, not able to understand Spencer’s usually logical way of thinking.

“Yes!” he answered, then, after a pause, “I have to try,” he said quietly.

“I know that a lot of people tell you you’re like a robot or something, but that doesn’t mean you are. You’re not all brain, Spencer, you’re heart too.”

He turned away from you so you couldn’t read his face. You sat back down, dejected.

He took a few deep breaths and sat down next to you, far enough away so as not to touch you at all.

“I don’t want to do this,” he admitted quietly. “But I won’t risk your life for my happiness. I can’t be that selfish.”

“It’s not just  _ your _ happiness,” you pointed out as a tear rolled down your cheek. Again he sighed.

“I’m not worth your life,” he mumbled. 

You turned to him and you could see his eyes follow the trail of tears down your cheek.

“Yes. You are.”

Spencer shook his head and stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and straightening his shirt.

“You can keep the ring,” he said emotionlessly.

And then he walked out of the room without looking back.

You were frozen for some time. You weren’t thinking, you didn’t move, some moments you didn’t even breathe. By the time you were able to make yourself get up, your limbs had grown stiff from inaction.

Still numb, you walked over to the bathroom and splashed your face with cold water. Drying your face, you saw the ring. Your heart sunk into your stomach and you bit your lip to keep whatever wretched sounds that were building inside you from escaping. You tried to get the ring off your finger, but with all the stress of the situation, your fingers had swelled a little, and the ring was nearly impossible to get off. You tugged, pulled, even ran it under water, but it wouldn’t budge. It stood there, mocking you with its promises of what could have been.

You turned the diamond inward, so at least you would only have to look at the gold band. It was small enough, at least, that it didn’t harm the inside of your hand.

You didn’t even know where to begin. Normally, you would have gone to Morgan or Penelope, but they had more important issues to deal with. Your parent’s weren’t your first choice of confidants, not to mention you’d have to explain to them yet again that you were in an extremely dangerous situation linked with Spencer’s job.

For a moment you thought maybe Spencer was right. Maybe you shouldn’t be exposing yourself to all of this. What if you found someone else who didn’t fight crazy people for a living? As soon as the thoughts entered, they were dismissed. There was only one man for you, and you had found him. It seemed nearly impossible that you would dissuade him from his current way of thinking, however. Your only hope seemed to be that once they caught the woman, he wouldn’t feel so threatened… Maybe after that he would realize that it was worth being together despite the risks. You didn’t see what the problem was if you were more than happy to risk your life. It was  _ your _ life after all. Anything that happened to you would be a result of your choices, and those of whomever wished to harm you. Why couldn’t Spencer see that?

You paced around the room for a while, running through the conversation over and over in your head, trying to figure out what you could have done differently. Maybe you missed something, some key argument that would have made him see he was wrong. Finding nothing, you kept pacing with other unhelpful thoughts. You played with your ring until it finally came off. Once it did, you stared at it. You quickly set it down on the dresser as if it were a bomb about to explode. You then quickly hid it in a drawer so it would be out of sight. You couldn’t bear to look at it. You then felt the pendant around your neck and cringed. The ring was one thing - that was new. The pendant…  _ “I carry your heart with me… Now you can carry mine with you too,”  _ you remembered him saying it as though it had been yesterday. You couldn’t force yourself to take the necklace off. For some reason it meant more than the ring had. Yes, the ring had meant your future, a life bound together, and it was wonderful, but that seemed to be gone. The pendent represented something more real - the present - or at least the recent past, in which Spencer had loved you, wanted you. You weren’t ready to give that up just yet. You let it swing and rest upon your chest.

So lost in this reverie were you, that you nearly jumped when you heard a knock on the door, followed by Agent Carter announcing that dinner had arrived. You told her you weren’t hungry, but you appreciated the offer. She seemed to sense something was off; she had probably heard the yelling earlier, but she didn’t press it.

After this interaction, you curled up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest. You didn’t cry. You weren’t sure you could if you wanted to. Everything had just changed so quickly. How could you go from being his everything to his nothing?

Perhaps you should have been concerned with the unsub who was currently hunting you. Perhaps you should have spared a thought for Jack, who must be so frightened, but you could do nothing but turn inwards and hide inside yourself, trying not to feel as though your heart had been ripped out of your chest. Sometimes you wished for company, but you knew they wouldn’t let you visit the others. They wanted to keep you separate so if something happened, it wouldn’t happen to all of you at once. This made strategic sense, but was also the perfect scenario for loneliness to creep in, and you were already vulnerable.

The night came and went; through it you tossed and turned. You dreamed that Spencer came back and took back everything he had sad. You awoke with a moment’s peace, and then were promptly crushed with reality.

When morning came, Agent Carter brought you breakfast. You ate what she brought, forcing it down through the nausea because you knew you needed something. The day passed and you read what books were in the room, watched a little TV, and tried not to think about the previous night. That seemed impossible, but for a few moments every so often, you could do it. You weren’t sure what you should be telling yourself. Should you be pumping yourself up to talk to him again and convince him? Or should you ready yourself for the remainder of this heartbreak and a life without him? You knew what Morgan would say when you told him; he would tell you to get back with him and not take no for an answer. You weren’t sure you had the strength for that.

Feeling lost, running through multiple scenarios in your head, you passed the day in an anxious mess. Agent Carter came in around dinner time and told you they were ordering Chinese food if you wanted in on it. You agreed and gave your order. She brought it in for you and sat down for a moment. She should be watching the door, you thought, but you wanted the company after feeling so lonely. She must have sensed something and stayed, her warm eyes giving you a sympathetic look. You wondered how much she knew.

After taking a bite of the food, you felt a little dizzy. It must have been longer than you thought since you ate an adequate amount, and all this worry was probably not doing your digestive system any favors. Agent Carter watched you for a moment, seemingly looking for something, but went back to take another bite. You continued as well, hoping that the dizzy spell would pass, but instead it got worse. You stood up to tell Agent Carter that you were going to lie down on the bed, but once you stood, your legs turned to jelly, and you fell onto the floor. Just before you closed your eyes, you saw Agent Carter fall off her chair and hit the ground, joining you in unconsciousness.


	17. Chapter 17

This was beginning to become the norm for you, apparently. You woke up to feel your limbs restrained, and your mouth gagged. Tugging and pulling against rope, you found you were tied tightly to an armchair. Looking around, you saw that you were in some kind of school room, although it looked abandoned. There was nothing on the walls, and most of the desks looked very outdated. The windows were so dirty that nearly no light of the setting sun shone through them.

Immediately in front of you, also tied to a chair, was Spencer. His head was hung low, and he was seemingly unconscious. A line of agents in chairs extended down from him, all tied and gagged, including Hotch, JJ, Penelope, and Morgan. In your row, facing theirs, were David and Savannah, both still out for the count; and… where was Jack?

Footsteps broke the silence, and you turned to see a woman walking into the room. That immediate feeling of recognition came to you, and it took you a few moments before you recognized her as the fake blonde woman you’d seen in the bookstore not too long ago. Jack was trailing behind her, unwillingly holding her hand and glancing around the room at everyone tied up. You noticed her other hand loosely held a gun.

Slowly, the rows began to wake up, each lifting their heads and testing their bonds like you had. The woman walked slowly, waiting for everyone to wake up before beginning her show. You briefly wondered how she had gotten you all here, but then you heard more footsteps and saw she had a few men to help her. They looked like drug addicts and were rather twitchy, you noticed, but they were hands to help.

You remembered the Chinese food, the dizziness… It would have made sense to drug the food.The officers and the civilians ate the same thing, so they would have been all out while she loaded you all to wherever you were now. You had no idea how she’d managed to bag five FBI agents though.

You locked eyes with Jack first and tried to give him a reassuring look, but he still looked stiff with fear. Your gaze then fluttered over the rest of the agents and came to rest on Spencer. He looked at you with the most heartbreakingly sad eyes. You could tell he felt extremely guilty about this. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid.

“Good evening,” the woman said cheerfully, once she saw that everyone was awake. “Welcome to the show.”

She guided Jack ahead of her and pulled up a spare chair for him. He sat down, but she did not gag or restrain him. She gently patted his head almost affectionately. He sat quietly, clearly having assessed the situation correctly as dangerous.

“My name is Felicia, and I’ll be your host for this evening. Now, I don’t think we need any names, since we’re all well acquainted here.”

She strode behind your row and dragged her gun against the shoulders of your friends. When she got to you, you laid her other hand on your shoulder. You tried not to flinch.

“I suppose right now, you’re thinking, ‘Why us? Why are we here?’” The agents looked at each other and then back at her. “It’s because of them,” she addressed your row. “They killed my Henry.” Emotion crept into her voice, causing her to lose her bravado and appearance of control.

She ungagged you and let the cloth stay wrapped around your neck. It was moist where it had sat in your mouth, but you were grateful to be free of it. You looked up at her, unsure what it is she had freed your mouth for.

“I’m not going to pretend to be a complex mastermind,” she admitted, shrugging. “I’m not going to say that my problems started in my childhood. No. They started when these  _ monsters _ ,” she pointed her gun at the agents, “Killed the  _ love _ of my  _ life!” _

Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat to calm herself.

“And now, they’re going to know how it feels to watch the one they love  _ die, _ knowing it was their fault.”

“And then what?” you asked, surprised at the casual sound of your voice.

She looked at you, taken aback. Clearly she had expected you to cower and remain silent. She must not know that this wasn’t your first rodeo with a psychopath intent on your death.

“And then they can go,” she said simply after recovering the shock of your speaking. “They can go on and live with the images of your deaths seared into their minds.” She grinned happily.

“And you think they’ll just let you go?” you asked. 

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me after all this,” she said honestly. “Once I get my payment for my Henry’s death, then I’ll be happy to do whatever it is these agents want of me.”

She crossed the aisle and walked up to Spencer, bending down to bring her face closer to his. She leaned in very close, and he tried to pull himself away in vain.

“She’s cute, huh?” she spoke to Spencer condescendingly. “She’s got a little fight in her.”

Spencer muttered something under his gag but it was unintelligible. She tsked him and shook her head. 

“It’s not your time to talk yet, sweetie,” she said, patting him on the head as she stood up.

She tapped her gun against her leg anxiously. You glanced at Jack who sat stiffly on the chair. At least she seemed to be ignoring him for now, but you knew she would not hesitate to kill another child.

“Did you like my presents?” she asked the agents. “I hoped you’d see them as invitations to this little gathering. Henry liked when I threw him parties,” she said longingly.

In a sick way, you could almost see where she was coming from. If anyone killed Spencer, you’d be out for blood too… Just maybe not literally.

“Would Henry like what you’re doing now?” you asked. She turned to you and cocked her head.

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?” she laughed. “Because he’s dead.”

Alright, so that wasn’t an angle. You wondered if you would be able to talk your way out or stall until someone found you like last time. Since the team was all here, it seemed unlikely.

Walking back over to you, she held the gun against your head. Your hands clenched the arms of the chair. The wood was hard, but your nails bore into it. You could feel the nervous sweat dripping on your forehead.

“Not so talkative now, huh?” she smiled. “Too bad, ‘cause I need you to do some talking.”

Spencer looked at you, and you noticed the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

“Tell him it’s his fault,” she said quietly. “Tell him the truth.”

You considered it. You considered lying to Spencer, giving this woman what she wanted, but for what? It was obvious she would just kill you anyway, so why leave Spencer with the impression she wanted? If anything, not lying might give you more time. At least you’d have a few more moments to look at Spencer if this was how it would end.

“No,” you answered evenly. 

She nudged the gun against your head.

“Tell him,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “Do you understand that I will  _ kill _ you?” she asked.

“Yes, but I’m also not going to lie just so you can have some twisted satisfaction,” you replied. “I’m sorry that you fell in love with the wrong man. I’m sorry that this happened to you, honestly. But I can’t lie to him. It’s not his fault at all. It’s yours.”

You spoke these words directly to Spencer, hoping they would sink in. He was shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

Felicia laughed incredulously. 

“But if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here right now,” she said. 

“No, if it weren’t for  _ you _ I wouldn’t be here right now,” you corrected her. 

She removed the gun from the side of your head and stepped in front of you, blocking your view of Spencer. You thought you saw something move out of the corner of your eye, but you did not dare look away from Felicia. 

Her eyes glanced over your figure quickly and down to your left hand.

“I thought you were engaged.” she noted. You swallowed hard.

“We were,” you said.

“Were?”

You bit your lip, afraid you’d break if you opened your mouth. She smiled and a small giggle escaped her lips.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh wow, he tried to break it off to save you?” she guessed. “Perhaps he already knows this is his fault.”

She moved over to Spencer and ungagged him. 

“What do you think?” she asked. “Is this your fault? Your ex-fiance is sitting bound to a chair, awaiting her execution, and it’s all because of you!”

“You’re right,” Spencer said weakly. “That’s why I tried to call it off. I never wanted--”

He stopped, unable to continue with a steady voice.

“Aww, he  _ loves _ you,” she noted. “But you were quick to ditch the ring,” she noticed. “What gives?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you defended. 

She hit Spencer in the back of the head with the pistol, eliciting a yelp of pain from him, and a scream of protest from you.

“You do, actually,” she said harshly.

Seeing no alternative, you opted for the truth.

“I couldn’t look at it without feeling sick,” you explained. “Every time I saw it, it just reminded me of what could have been.”

You couldn’t look at either him or her, and so opted for looking at your knees. You could feel her eyes searching yours.

“And that pendant?” she asked, walking over to you. “A gift from him, no? Seems like a lover’s gift. Henry gave me something similar.”

You nodded.

“Why not get rid of that then?” she asked.

You considered telling her to mind her own business, but remembered the pain in Spencer’s scream and threw the thought away.

“I couldn’t,” was all you could manage to say.

“We girls are woefully sentimental aren’t we?” said the woman who had murdered a child. You shrugged. “And were it not for him, you wouldn’t be feeling this inner turmoil, would you?” she asked.

“He’s worth it,” you mumbled.

“What?” she asked.

“He’s worth it,” you repeated louder. You could feel the eyes of everyone on you suddenly. 

“He’s worth being kidnapped, tied up, gagged, threatened, and ultimately killed?” she asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” she mocked. 

She turned to Spencer. She seemed to have forgotten the rest of her prisoners for the time being, and turned her back to them. You chanced a look over at her lackies who had left the room at some point.

“And what do you think?” she asked Spencer. “Are you worth all this trouble?”

“No,” he said. 

“No,” she repeated. “Because you know it’s your fault.”

“It is not!” you nearly screamed. “If it wasn’t you, it’d be some other crazy bitch. But it doesn’t matter. I would die a thousand deaths for him. Kill me, but he will have to know that it is not his fault.”

“It doesn’t seem like he knows that,” she said with mock sincerity.

“Then just kill me and get it over with. I’ve tried to change his mind, but I can’t.”

She paused for a moment, considering.

“You never explained the necklace,” she remembered.

“Yes I did,” you said.

“No, you just said that you couldn’t get rid of it. You never said why.”

Again, you thought you saw movement behind her, but you didn’t look away. You had a gut feeling it was important to keep the spotlight on you and Spencer.

Sighing, you replied, “Because regardless of what he decides to do, I will  _ always _ carry his heart with me.”

Spencer’s eyes snapped to yours, although their expression was unreadable. 

“Sentimental,” she smirked at Spencer. “You weren’t ready to let go of a man who constantly puts you in danger? I mean there’s bound to be more like me out there.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head. “Love isn’t a danger, it’s a protectant.”

She scoffed, waving her gun at you.

“You call this protecting?” she asked.

“I feel safer here with you and him in the room, than I do alone,” you said. 

As you said it, it became truth. As strange as it was, you felt better being with him, even if you were in extreme danger, than anywhere else.

“And you think  _ I’m _ the crazy one,” she laughed.

“You can try and make me say it all you want,” you said. “I’m not budging.”

She assessed you for a moment.

“No, you’re not,” she decided. She turned the gun towards Spencer now. “So maybe I’ll have you watch him die, knowing it was your fault,” she said, sounding inspired.

“Wait!” your voice ripped from your throat without your approval. You would die for yourself, but you wouldn’t let him die because of something you wouldn’t do.

She turned to you with an eyebrow raised.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” she asked innocently.

You tried to force the words, but they wouldn’t come. Spencer’s eyes were wide, but you couldn’t tell what he wanted you to do. Again you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. It was a little above waist height. And again you didn’t look, somehow sensing it vital that you keep her attention now more than ever.

“You’re right. It’s not your fault, it’s not his fault, it’s mine,” you said. 

She walked over to you and knelt down in front of you, searching your features for an explanation. Finding none, she spoke.

“How is it your fault?” she asked.

You didn’t know. It was just something you said to get her away from him. Now that she was kneeling, you chanced a glance up, hoping to see whatever had caused the movement. You did. Jack had nearly finished untying Hotch from the ropes that bound him to the chair. You wondered if she had patted them down for weapons… and if she had found Spencer’s ankle holster.

Bringing your eyes back to her waiting features, you noticed that she was looking almost sympathetically at you. You thought it odd, but then another thought occurred. Maybe she felt it was her fault that Henry got caught. You tried to adhere to that line of thinking.

“It was me that started the whole relationship,” you explained. “If I had just let him do his job… If I didn’t push it when he clearly wanted to be professional… We wouldn’t be here right now,” you said. It was true, in a way. You didn’t regret doing the things you did, or any other moment of your relationship, but it was true that perhaps things wouldn’t have turned out this way if you hadn’t pushed it.

She nodded and placed her hand on yours. 

“I was the one who started things with Henry too,” she admitted. “Sometimes I think--”

Before you could gasp, Hotch had risen up from his chair, grabbed Spencer’s ankle gun and crossed the aisle to hold the gun to the back of her head. She froze.

“Put the gun down,” he ordered in a low voice. She laughed. 

“I knew I should have tied the kid up,” she said. “Never trust the quiet ones.”

“Gun down,” Hotch repeated. She did as she was told. “Where are your men?” he asked.

“Gone,” she said.

“Gone?” he repeated.

“I just hired them to get you here. Didn’t think there’d be an issue after that,” she admitted.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out handcuffs, roughly latching them on as he read her her rights.

Jack began untying the rest of you while he led her away from the group and up against a wall. After everyone was untied, they each reunited with each other. You hugged everyone, but you and Spencer avoided each other until everyone else had been attended to.

The group started to leave the space, following Hotch and Felicia out of the room, but the two of you stayed. You stood a few feet apart from each other, looking anywhere but each others eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke first.

“So…” he said. 

“Yeah,” you almost laughed.

Again there was an awkward silence. When neither of you filled it, you motioned towards the door.

“After you,” you said. 

“No, please,” he insisted. 

You started walking and he went along with you. You walked in silence and were greeted by the group outside who informed you that police were on their way. From outside you could see it was some kind of abandoned school, as you had deduced. You wondered why she would bring you here, but your brain didn’t want to process anything more to do with that woman. Once you were with the group, Spencer moved away from you to talk to Hotch.

Morgan came over to you and pulled you aside with the pretense of a hug.

“You okay?” he asked. You nodded weakly. “I didn’t know about you and Reid,” he said, glancing at Spencer for a moment.

“It is what it is,” you shrugged, feeling absolutely not ready for this conversation.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Morgan said. “Boy Genius is just being stupid,” he said. “He’ll come around.”

“Morgan--” your voice creaked and threatened to break. 

He shushed you and pulled you in for another hug, just holding you until you steadied your breath.

“Easy, girl,” he said soothingly. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nodded. 

“Want to come home with me and Savannah?” he asked.

Penelope walked over then and wrapped her arm around your shoulder. 

“Girls night?” she asked.

A glance over her shoulder showed Spencer talking with the newly arrived police.

“That sounds good,” you managed. You knew you couldn’t go back to your place, and Morgan would want to talk about it. 

“We’ll eat lots of chocolate,” she promised, squeezing your shoulders.

On the ride to Penelope’s place, it was silent. The policeman driving you merely asked for an address, and the only noise that filled the silence was the turn by turn directions from the navigation app. You laid your head against the window, letting the cold sooth your aching head. Penelope gave you your space, but her hand lay open at her side should you choose to need it. Eventually, you did.

Penelope’s apartment was an extension of herself. There were fluffy boas hung on lamps, novelty items, painted chairs, the whole shebang. If it were any other time you would have wanted to look in detail at all the stuff that filled the room. As it was, you just wanted to collapse.

“I’ll find some spare clothes for you to sleep in. The shower is over there if you want it,” she pointed to a door that led to the bathroom.

“Thanks, Pen,” you said, pausing to stop her before she went in her room. “Honestly,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “You’re exactly the person I needed right now.”

“Oh,” she said, startled, but pleasantly surprised. “Of course, any time.”

She left with a smile to find you some clothes and you settled down on the couch. You heard her phone ring from the other room and she answered it.

“Hello?” you could hear her say. “Oh… Hi Reid…”

Your stomach sank. Why was he calling her? You thought that maybe after this had finished you would have kissed and reunited like the ending to a cliche movie, but it wasn’t that way. You had said two words to each other, and then separated. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

“Okay, I’ll tell her,” she said, and then hung up. Poking her head from her bedroom door into the living room, she said, “Your phone is still at your place. Reid just wanted to let you know in case you were looking for it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you said.

She hesitated a moment.

“What?” you asked.

“He um… he didn’t sound good,” she said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“He um…” she crossed the room quickly and sat down next to you on the couch. “So all the team does when they’re on a mission is to call me with stuff, right?” she asked rhetorically. “So I’ve gotten good, I mean  _ really _ good at reading their voices over the phone.”

“And?”

“And Reid is  _ not _ okay,” she said emphatically. “Like really really not okay.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” you said robotically. “He’s alone, just like he wanted.”

She grimaced.

“I’m sure he doesn’t want that, he loves you,” she said.

You shrugged and laid your head in your hands.

“Can we just go to bed?” you asked. 

“Sorry, of course,” she said, scrambling to get up.

“I think I’ll take a shower first though, if you don’t mind. And then I’ll just flop on the couch if that’s cool?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah, anything you want,” she said. “I’ll grab pillows and stuff while you’re in the shower.”

“Thanks,” you said weakly.

Pulling yourself off the couch, you grabbed the extra clothes she’d gotten you and went to the bathroom. The warm water seemed to wash away a lot of the stress of the evening, and after cleaning up, you stayed in it longer than necessary. Realizing you were probably hogging all the hot water, you got out, toweled off and got dressed.

She had gotten you a large shirt and some sweatpants. They were a little baggy, but they would do. You walked into the living room as she was finishing up putting sheets over the couch.

“Thanks,” you said again.

“If you need anything, just come get me,” she said. 

You said your goodnights and she switched off the light as she went to her room. You settled into your makeshift bed and nestled under the covers. Tossing and turning for nearly an hour, you laid on your back and stared up at the ceiling. 

The heart pendant laid on your chest. It was smaller than a dime, but seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. You shifted it between your fingers restlessly.

You would have to get rid of this eventually, you thought. If Spencer was truly ending this, you couldn’t hang on and just hope that he would change his mind. You resolved to get rid of it the following day. For now, just for one more night, you wanted to hold on to it. Just for one more night you would let yourself wish, foolishly, that he would come back to you, tell you he loved you, and that he was wrong.

Only for a night, you promised yourself.

With that, your brain allowed you to fall asleep. Not surprisingly, you dreamt of Spencer.


	18. Chapter 18

In the morning, you awoke to the sounds of something sizzling, and the smell of toast. Penelope was cooking, you found, as you sat up and looked over to the kitchen.

“Sorry,” she said, once she saw she had woken you. “It’s like almost noon,” she added. “I figured we should eat something.

You agreed, feeling your stomach’s demands. You sat at her kitchen table.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. 

“Alive,” you responded. “You?”

“About the same,” she smiled. “It’s weird, but you never really get used to this.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen more than I have,” you noted. She nodded.

“But I have someone to go through it with,” she said, meaning David.

“I’m sorry, you probably wanted to spend the night with him.”  You suddenly felt guilty.

“Oh, no he’s fine,” she said. “We’re fine. I knew he’d understand that you needed someone.”

You hung your head for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that you didn’t have anyone else. I just knew that you and Reid were--” 

“It’s fine,” you said, interrupting her frantic apologies. “I did need someone, thank you.”

She sighed, content with not having offended you, and took the eggs off the burner. Adding them to the toast, she served breakfast for the two of you with coffee.

Playing with her food, she kept eying you questioningly, like she wanted to say something.

“What is it?” you asked, not being able to take the scrutiny. 

“What happened?” she asked. “I thought you two were so happy.”

“We were,” you said. “I don’t know, you’d have to ask him.”

“He thinks he’s protecting you by distance,” she observed. 

“Something like that. Oldest, dumbest superhero trick in the book,” you added.

“The Flash had a wife. And I think a few Ant-Mans had honeys too. Not to mention Jessica Jones,” she said, poking at her eggs with her fork.

You smiled and managed a laugh at this.

“Where was that knowledge when I needed it,” you jested. She smiled grimly.

“He’ll come around,” she said softly.

“That’s what Morgan said,” you sighed.

Penelope’s phone chimed and she looked at the message.

“David?” you asked, taking a bite of your eggs.

“Reid,” she looked guiltily at you. “He asked if he could bring your phone to you.”

Did you want to see him right now? you asked yourself. Surely if he came over, you’d have to talk.

“I should probably just go home-- To his place, I mean,” you corrected yourself. “We should just get it over with.”

She reached for your hand and held it gently.

“I’m always here for you. If you need a place to crash, binge watch something, eat 12 pints of Ben and Jerry’s, I’m here,” she said.  

“Thank you,” you answered genuinely. “Can I get these clothes back to you? I don’t want to wear jeans right now,” you said, looking at your clothes on the floor.

“Of course,” she said.

You finished up breakfast and packed up what you had brought over. Penelope texted Spencer to tell him you were on your way. With one last hug, you departed, dreading the upcoming conversation. It felt like you were heading to your death, in a way. 

The cab ride over was too short for your liking, and all too soon, you were at the door, hesitant to knock. The door opened, however, before you could muster your courage, and revealed Spencer. He was wearing a sweater and sweatpants, his hair was a mess, and his eyes had deep circles under them.

“Come in, please,” he said gently, stepping aside so there was no chance you’d accidentally touch.

“Thanks,” you muttered, passing him quickly. Already the pangs that felt like fire were striking your heart. You bit your lip nervously. “So um, my phone?” you asked numbly. 

“What?” he asked. “Oh, right.” He said, his mind on other things. He went to the counter and brought you your phone.

You pocketed it. 

“So… How do we do this?” you asked, looking around the room at all of your stuff intermingled with his. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. He paused, looking down at his shoes. “Maybe… we don’t?”

You stopped yourself before you could hope. Training your heart these past few days had been like training a puppy not to jump. 

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Come here,” he said, walking towards the couch. You followed, sitting down on the other side.

His face was riddled with worry and apprehension. Although it had been only a few days, he seemed to have aged a few years. 

“Penelope’s worried about you,” you offered. 

He laughed hollowly. 

“I’m worried about me too,” he said.

“Why’s that?” you asked.

“I’m worried what’s going to happen to me when I show you this,” he pulled out your ring from his pocket, “And you say no.”

Again, you had to tell your heart to stay in your chest. 

“Because as much as I’ve tried to tell myself that I can shut this… this feeling out of me, that I can be okay alone, that I can survive without you… I have come to find that I still carry your heart with me  _ everywhere _ … And try as I might to leave it behind… I can’t,” his voice cracked. He studied the ring as he spoke, not daring to look at your face. “I’ve been thinking about everything that I’m scared of. When we were in that place, tied up, I was thinking that it was my worst fear. I was thinking, ‘This is it, this is the worst thing I can ever imagine, isn’t it?’ Because that’s the kind of image that has plagued my mind for weeks, months, even.”

You swallowed hard, unsure if you could handle where this was going. 

“But as I was sitting there, even when she had the gun to your head, all I kept thinking was, ‘No, this isn’t the worst thing. This isn’t what I fear most.’”

He bit his lip and took a breath, holding back the emotions that were building up.

“I was thinking, ‘The worst thing I could imagine, is a life without her.’ And I know in that moment, you could have been killed, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about what would happen if we got out, and I never saw you again. And that…” 

He trailed off and shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. He fiddled with the ring.

“I cannot imagine anything worse than being without you,” he said softly. “And I know that it might put you in danger, and I know it’s selfish, but--”

“Spencer,” you interrupted. You hadn’t realized tears had started to fall down your cheeks. He looked up. “What are you saying, really?”

“That… If you’ll still have me…” he looked back down at the ring. “I will spend every day of the rest of our lives making this up to you.”

You stared at the ring. You had shoved it in that drawer because you couldn’t stand to look at it just the other day, and now you found you couldn’t look anywhere else. Again it seemed to hold the future in its small diamond like a crystal ball.

“I…” you started, not sure where your mind was going. 

Of course you wanted to say yes. Of course you still wanted the life you had envisioned. But how long would Spencer maintain this way of thinking? Until the next threat on your life? 

“What is it?” he asked after you failed to finish your sentence.

You sighed and let your eyes roam up to his.

“How long will it last this time?” you asked. “What if something else happens to us, and you change your mind again?”

It took great restraint to say these apprehensions outloud. The temptation to pretend everything would be fine forever had a great pull on your heart.

Spencer frowned and thought for a moment. Then a small smile graced his lips.

“I fear no fate, for you are my fate, my sweet,” he quoted your poem softly, begging you with his eyes to understand something vital.

You looked at him for a long, seemingly endless moment, and then let your heart speak for you.

“I want no world, for beautiful you are my world, my true,” you quoted.

As soon as the words left your lips, Spencer rushed to kiss you. Your world melted away until there was only him and you. You could feel the urgency in his kiss, the need for you. He had tried to deny it, but you were what he not only wanted, but needed. His hands went to either side of your neck, pulling you to him.

“And it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you,” he whispered when he broke the kiss, skimming his hands down your neck to your shoulders and resting his forehead against yours.

He slipped the ring back on your finger and you both stared at it for some time. You kissed him once more.

“If you ever do something like that to me again, I will personally murder you, Dr. Spencer Reid,” you smiled at him. He nodded and laughed nervously.

“And I don’t think anyone would condemn you for it,” he decided.

After a moment, his smile dropped and he turned to you seriously.

“That will never happen again,” he promised, taking your hand in his. “I am yours and you are mine, forever.”

He said it like a statement, but his eyes looked at you questioningly.

“Forever,” you repeated. 

You kissed him again to affirm your words, grateful for the feeling of his lips, a feeling you thought you had lost forever. You made love right there on the couch slowly and with more passion than you’d ever experienced before.

Laying together on the couch, him on his back, and you wedged between him and the back of the couch, you felt utterly content. You drifted in and out of sleep, one time realizing that Spencer must have carried you to the bedroom because there was now a bed beneath you. Whenever you woke through these drifts, one word kept replaying in your mind:  _ forever _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this last part. I tried to make it somewhat realistic with the making up of the two of you, cuz I always feel like it's rushed and too perfect in a lot of stories where this type of thing happens; that being said, I couldn't stand to write the two of you apart for long :)  
> Also idk where this story is going next so it may be a little while till I write some more, but definitely at least the wedding will happen soon!  
> Omg also I totally meant to have David (Penelope's boyfriend) be Kevin from the show because I love him and they should have stayed together, but I goofed thinking I remembered his name correctly. But essentially, David is Kevin if anyone cared.


	19. Chapter 19

After you had informed the whole team of what had passed between you and Spencer, everything seemed to go back to a somewhat normal state. You and Spencer had invited everyone over for dinner at your place to sort of reset the dynamic. 

They, of course, understood and were simply glad you were back together as it should be. They even made a few goodnatured jokes to set you both at ease. You were glad it was so easy to laugh about. If you couldn’t laugh, you were sure it would have hurt every time you looked back. But the thing you understood well was that everyone makes mistakes. Now, though, you would make them together no matter what. 

Despite your ardent protests, Penelope and JJ insisted on throwing you a bachelorette party. Your objections included, but were not limited to: not wanting one, not having more than two female friends in the immediate area, and just generally opposing the usual drinking and partying that went along with that kind of night.

Morgan and Hotch joined in on the idea and Morgan took the reins on the planning of Spencer’s party, for which he was equally apprehensive. You shared a sympathetic look with Spencer as your friends started planning your respective parties in front of you.

As the dinner concluded, and your friends left, you laughed and tucked yourself under Spencer’s chin as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Maybe we should just elope,” you chuckled. “It would save us the nightmare that will be our parties.”

“Mmm,” Spencer murmured, more enraptured in the feeling of you against his chest than the words you were saying. “I don’t think I could do that.”

“Why not? It’d save a bunch of time and money,” you reasoned. “Seems logical.”

“Nothing is logical about a wedding,” he laughed. “At the rate that people grow and change, it’s remarkable that any marriage lasts. The idea that two people can grow, change, and accept each other for their whole lives is almost certifiable.”

You pulled away from him, but kept your hands around his waist, and he his arms around you.

“And yet you still want to do this?” you asked.

He looked at you fervently, his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.

“Of course,” he said. 

“You realize that’s not logical, Mr. Genius?” you asked mockingly.

Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Our relationship has never been logical,” he said.

“What? Yes it has,” you said. 

“No,” he answered. “In what logical, rational world, would a smart, beautiful, amazing woman like you end up with someone like me?” he asked seriously. “Statistically, you should have ended up with an attractive high-powered politician or something of the kind.”

You sighed. You’d forgotten that he still felt inadequate in some ways. The thing with Spencer was that it didn’t bother him the way it would other people. It crept in in sentences like that; one’s where he thought he was being logical, but he was really self-deprecating. You thought you’d cured this at the beginning of the relationship, but apparently old habits died hard.

“You sighed. You’re annoyed?” he guessed.

“No, just… You need to stop thinking of me as someone who’s above you in some way,” you explained.

He frowned, thinking.

“How?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and kissed him.

“You need to know that you’re smart, beautiful, and amazing too,” you said. He made to object, but you kept going. “Statistically, I should have ended up with some weight-lifting, dick-pic-sending asshole. Look around, that’s what’s most prominent out there,” you said honestly. “But instead, I get you,” you poked his chest and smiled.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he smirked.

“Yes,” you said seriously. “So, no more pedestal, okay?” you asked.

“How about just a little one?” he asked. “More like a step stool?”

You giggled and kissed him.

“Fine,” you laughed.

The following day, you went back to work. Frank and Walter had been so worried about you, they almost made you go back home and rest from the whole ordeal.

However, you were able to convince them that you were ready for work, and they gladly took you back. You dreaded the weekend when the girls would be taking you out, but at least Spencer’s was the same night, and that way you could commiserate when you both got home in the early hours of Saturday morning. 

The week was spent working and writing. You were really getting those juices flowing on your novel. It had taken the definite shape of a sci-fi work, telling the tale of the love story you’d lived, but with a few twists to make it more alien and dramatic.

All too soon, the day of your bachelorette party arrived. The girls had planned the whole day out. You were going for spa treatments and makeovers during the day, and then out to a male strip club at night. Although you thought the first half sounded lovely, having to stuff dollar bills into g-strings of thrusting men sounded the opposite. You decided to grin and bear it, however, as the girls were thrilled to do this for you.

JJ, Penelope, Hotch, and Morgan all arrived at your apartment on Saturday morning. You did not know what the boys had planned, but apparently it was an all day event as well. You did not want to ask what Morgan had up his sleeve. This was not his first bachelor party, you were sure.

The team had to practically tear you apart to get you to leave with them. You parted from Spencer with a promise to get through the night if he would so you could be together in the end.

“Take care of him,” you warned Morgan.   
“He’ll be fine,” Morgan smiled too widely. “Nothing crazy, I promise,” he grinned. 

You turned your gaze to what you hoped would be a stern-looking Hotch, but found a childish grin on his features as well.

“Hotch?” you tried.

“Oh, I’m not the one running the show,” he defended. “I’m just along for the ride.”

You shook your head in defeat as the girls led you out the door. As you anticipated, the day was lovely. You got massages, facials, manicures and pedicures, the works. The girls at the salon did your hair and makeup, and you looked fabulous. You got their cards for a possible stylist for the wedding as well.

Then, however, came the night. JJ and Penelope brought you back to your apartment to find something suitable to wear to the strip club. They benched you pretty early on and started rifling through your closet to find the best outfit. They came up with a tight black dress you’d bought once in college when you’d been going through a phase where you tried to act like an actual college student. They held it out to you and grinned.

“That probably doesn’t even fit anymore,” you tried. “I bought that like five years ago or something.”

“It’ll fit,” JJ assessed. “Try it on at least,” she threw the dress at you.

You grimaced, but couldn’t deny their pressing looks for long. You changed in the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror for a while before you heard them calling you to come out. You looked… hot. You had completely forgotten this dress; the way it held your body, the way it made the lines of your hips look…

You exited the bathroom and walked out to the gasps of the girls.

“You’re so hot!” JJ exclaimed, laughing.

“One hundred percent tamale,” Penelope agreed.

“You think so?” you asked, seeing how tight and unforgiving it was in some places.

“You’re wearing that for sure,” JJ said, reaching for your hand.

She pulled you out of the room and towards the door. 

“Come on, we got strippers to tip,” she said. 

“Wohoo!” You heard Penelope cheer behind you.

You took a cab downtown. Penelope extracted a pink crown that said  _ Bachelorette _ on the top from her purse, and put it on your head. 

When you arrived, you saw there was a stage in the middle and tables surrounding it, like some kind of dinner theater. You ordered a few drinks, ate some food, and watched a few of the opening acts. As you got a little tipsy, you became more comfortable, and less grouchy at the evening’s activity. Some of the guys were really funny, and some were undoubtedly very attractive. Everything was going along fine, until a man in a firefighter’s costume took a mic and stood in the center of the stage. 

“I hear tell we have a lady that’s going to be married soon,” he said, shielding his eyes to look around the room. “Who might that be?”

You turned to the traitors at your table and stared daggers at them. They avoided your gaze, faking innocence.

“There she is!” the firefighter exclaimed, jumping off the table to walk over towards you. The spotlight followed him. He walked up to you and squatted down to be at your level. “How are you doing, little lady?” he asked, handing you the mic.

“I’ve been betrayed,” you said, glaring at the girls. He laughed. 

“Not one for the spotlight?” he asked. You shook your head. “Well,” he said, taking off his firefighter’s hat, “Maybe instead of a dance, you would like a  _ dance?” _ he asked. 

You looked at him quizzically until a slow song started playing. All of the women in the audience sighed with admiration, and you smirked at him.

“Smooth,” you praised.

However, you assumed this would in fact be the less painful option, and took his outstretched hand. He led you on to the stage as the music swelled, and pulled you close to dance with him. You sighed and just went with it. He smelled nice and was holding you respectably. As the dance continued, little strings of lights descended from the ceiling, surrounding you in dazzling ambiance as the crowd cheered. He dipped you and returned as the crowd went wild. A few more strippers came out in their various outfits and pulled a few other girls up for a slow dance, pulling swooning sounds from the audience.

It was interesting, you noted, that sometimes sentimentality was sexier than the animalistic type of dancing these men often did. Perhaps that was why Spencer was so sexy to you.

After the dance, the dancer returned you to your seat and wished you good luck and happiness in your adventures. You pretended to still be mad at the girls for a moment, but then smiled and told them it was actually fun. Eventually, after a few more drinks, you left the bar. You took a cab with them back to your place, but stopped outside as another cab pulled up. Out of it stumbled Spencer, Morgan, and Hotch.

Once outside the cab, it was clear that Morgan and Spencer were very drunk, while Hotch maintained a buzzed, if not tipsy composure.

Spencer stumbled over to you, nearly knocking you over when he wrapped his arms around you. He smelled like alcohol, and lots of it.

“Hey! I know you!” he slurred a little. “I love you,” he said, pulling you in front of him and holding you tightly. Morgan laughed behind you. “I loooooove you. A lot,” he insisted. You laughed and nodded. “So much!” he continued. “It’s so much feeling that it feels too… too big!” he explained with wide eyes. He pointed to his chest. “In here, feels like it’s going to explode.”

“Okay,” you patted his shoulder. “Somebody’s had too much if they’ve forgotten basic anatomy.”

“I could teach you basic anat-money,” he mispronounced. He leaned in and tried to kiss you, but when he closed his eyes, he nearly fell over.

“I thought you said you were going to take care of him?” you accused Morgan.

Morgan shrugged and laughed.

“I did,” he said.

You shook your head good-naturedly and turned Spencer around.

“I’m not even going to ask what happened tonight,” you decided. “But I think we can call it a night now, yes?” you asked the group.

They looked at each other grudgingly and nodded. It seemed they wanted to keep going, but you knew you and Spencer had had more than enough. You bid them all a good night and helped Spencer upstairs and into bed. You stripped off his shoes and clothes until he was in just boxers. He giggled entire time about being “nakey” and you were sobering up enough to find it both amusing and concerning.

You had never seen Spencer drunk before. Most semblance of intelligence had left him and he was a grabby, talkative mess. You got into bed next to him and slid under the covers.

“Hey, hey,” he said, grasping your hand in his. “I am going to marry you.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

“We are going to be married forever,” he added.

“That’s the plan,” you agreed.

He sighed happily and rolled over to you.

“You make me so happy,” he said, suddenly serious. “There’s so much darkness in here sometimes,” he pointed to his head clumsily. “But you make it go away.”

You swallowed hard. It was a drunken statement, sure. But drunk words were sober thoughts, you believed.

You were about to respond, although you didn’t know how, but you realized that Spencer had fallen asleep. You kissed his forehead and sighed, falling asleep not long afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have a few twists and turns in mind for the next few chapters so I hope you'll enjoy!


	20. Chapter 20

You were in the kitchen making tea when you heard the first groan. The pitiable sound was followed by a few more moans and clambering. Spencer emerged from the bedroom with squinting eyes and a blanket around his shoulders. He shielded himself from the light coming through the window and managed to make it to the kitchen table without falling over or vomiting.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greeted, happily not hung over.

“Grublaas,” was what his response sounded like.

You placed some tea in front of him and he took a sip.

“It has ginger in it, it’ll help your stomach,” you informed him.

However, the moment after he brought the cup to his lips, he immediately dropped it and ran for the bathroom. You grimaced as you heard the retching sounds of his stomach making its clear complaints about the previous evening. Luckily, your companions hadn’t been too insistent on your drinking, nor did you allow it to go past your usual limit. You waited for the sound of the flush and it came, followed by a very pale Spencer, who again took his seat at the table. You had prepared eggs for the both of you, but left his plate on the counter seeing as he had the reverse of an appetite.

“Feel better?” you inquired.

He nodded as you placed a glass of water in front of him.

“Hydrate,” you ordered. 

He took a sip and clasped his hand to his forehead.

“Should I ask how your night was?” you asked, taking a seat opposite him.

“You could, but I don’t think I could provide many details,” he grimaced. 

You chuckled.

“Your night was better, I hope,” he asked.

“It was alright,” you said. “We went to a male strip club.”

He choked on his water and had a small coughing fit before he recovered.

“I thought bachelorette parties had nail painting and fortune tellers,” he responded with wide eyes.

You shrugged.

“That’s where they wanted to take me,” you said. “I assume you went to one too?”

He nodded and put his head in his hands, groaning again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met so many girls named Destiny in one night,” he shook his head.

“I bet the girls loved you,” you smirked You imagined their usual clients were less than desirable, and to have such an innocent boy among them would have been a vacation.

“I think I blushed through my entire body the whole night,” he complained. “Never again.”

You took his hand and chuckled.

“Hey, we made it though, right?” you smiled. He gave a meager smile in return.

“Barely,” he said.

You watched him for a moment as he drank his tea. You wondered about what he had said to you last night about there being a lot of darkness inside him. How much was there? Would you always be enough to keep it at bay? He was too busy trying not to throw up to notice your intense gaze on him, and you caught yourself before he could.

Deciding that both of you needed a day to relax, you spent most of it in bed. While you scribbled away at your novel, Spencer mostly slept. You noticed that you were nearly done with your first draft of the story. Having hand written most of it, you realized you would have to type it up, which would also give you a sort of editing glance over it before you gave it to anyone to read. You would get to it soon enough, when everything on paper was finally done.

When Spencer woke up in the late afternoon feeling much better, the two of you went for a walk. It was brisk weather, but you stayed close to him for reasons other than warmth. Hand in hand you strolled through the streets with no particular destination in mind. It reminded you of early in your relationship when you had visited him in Montana. You wondered what you would say to yourself if you could talk to that girl. You wondered what you could say that would prepare her not only for the bad that was to come, but for the unimaginable good.

Returning for dinner, the two of you ate and went to bed, both having to get up for work the next day. 

Spencer was already gone by the time you woke up, but since you hadn’t woken up at his alarm as you usually did to say goodbye, he had left a note on his pillow wishing you a good day.

You grabbed your draft and headed down to the bookstore. Walter was already there, but Frank had not yet arrived. You dropped your stuff behind the counter and walked over to where Walter stood, rearranging some books.

“Morning,” you greeted happily.

“Good morning, my dear,” he smiled warmly. “Come, I have something to discuss with you.”

You had no idea what it could be, but you followed Walter to the staff room and he pulled a wrapped present out of the cabinet. It was a small box with a red ribbon.

“What’s this?” you asked, surprised.

“A gift, I hope,” he said.

“You hope?” you laughed, taking the box.

Walter smiled gently and watched as you opened the box. Inside was a key.

“It’s the key to the store,” he said happily.

“But I already have one,” you motioned to your keys. He had given you one in case you arrived before he did.

“Not  _ a _ key, my dear.  _ The  _ key.”

You shook your head, not understanding. He gestured for you to sit down at the small table.

“You may have noticed that I am very old,” he said. “And Frank is going to college soon…”

“Wait…” you started to figure it out.

“And I think retirement sounds better and better these days,” he smiled. “I didn’t want to close the store, and I would never give it to someone I didn’t trust completely.”

“Walter--”

“Please,” he said, taking your hand. “Take care of my baby, will you?”

You looked down at the key and then back at him. 

“You want me to run the store?” you asked.

“I want you to own it,” he said. “I have all the papers ready if you want to sign.”

“I don’t know how to run a store,” you realized.

“It’s a good thing I know how to teach you that, then,” he said.

You felt an enormous smile break onto your face. As it did, Walter’s face mirrored yours and you stood immediately to hug him. He gave a sound of surprise, but hugged you back.

“I will take care of your baby, Walter,” you promised. “Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you _ ,” he said seriously. 

You spent the rest of the day alternating between helping customers and learning how to keep the books and manage the business from Walter. He still had a lot to teach you by the end of the day, but you were surprised to find how naturally everything came to you.

On your way home you muttered to yourself, “(Y/N), owner of Walter’s Bookstore,” with a grin on your face.

There was a new sense of purpose in you now. It was one thing to write something for yourself. You had no idea if that would go anywhere. But now you could be your own independant woman, a business owner. It was thrilling. And the fact that Walter trusted you with his life’s work was another thing you praised yourself for. You walked into your apartment in high spirits, grinning from ear to ear.

Spencer was at the kitchen table on his laptop. He looked up and smiled when you walked in.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, grinning as he came to kiss you.

You pulled him into a long kiss, joyously tasting his lips and holding him tightly against you.

“Wow,” he said when you pulled away. “Did we just win the lottery or something?”

“No, no,” you laughed. “I um…” You pulled out the key Walter had given you. “Walter gave me the store today,” you said. 

“What?” he said excitedly.

“Well, not yet, technically, but soon. And--”

Spencer cut you off with a kiss and swung you around, lifting your feet off the ground. When you were returned to the ground, you looked at him. He was so happy for you. You could see it in his eyes. It was as if he had been the one to have something wonderful happen for him.

“That is so exciting,” he beamed. “And you want this?” he confirmed.

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but when Walter told me… Yes,” you nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“I agree,” he smiled.

“I thought you might have left for another case by now,” you noted. “You’ve been home for a while.”

“Well, now that we’ve said that, I’m sure all the unsubs are just lining up at the door to drag me away across the country,” he said, half-joking.

You glanced over at his laptop.

“Were you working from home?” you asked.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, leading you over to the kitchen table where the laptop was. On its screen you saw a word document open with a small paragraph.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“Our engagement announcement,” he said. “For the paper.”

“People still do that?” you laughed. 

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. He took a seat and started typing. “But it appears now, I will have to add something.”

He added, “Owner of Walter’s Bookstore” in front of your name. You gushed with happiness. 

“This is so amazing,” you marveled. 

“It’s only 250 words,” he answered.

“No not that,” you smiled. “Well, yes, your announcement is nice. But just… everything,” you said. “You, us, this whole thing.”

He looked down and then turned to you.

“I’m sorry that it almost didn’t happen,” he said softly. You sat down next to him and took his hand.

“I’m just glad that it is happening,” you answered.

He tried to smile.

“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had kept it called off,” he said, suddenly solemn. 

You shook your head.

“Well, you don’t have to, right?”

“Although widely thought of as an illegitimate theory, the multiverse theory still suggests that somewhere out there there is a universe in which I didn’t decide to stay with you, or that you didn’t take me back. In those universes… I can’t imagine what state I would be in.”

He seemed truly distressed by this notion. You squeezed his hand and then brought it to your lips to press a gentle kiss on the back.

“Spencer,” you said, drawing his attention with your tone. “I cannot imagine a universe in which we are not together in some form or another. I don’t believe one exists where we don’t stay together.”

You could tell he wasn’t convinced, but your vehemence in your belief seemed to help. Suddenly, he stood with wide eyes, seemingly excited about something.

“What is it?” you asked.

He sprung up and disappeared into the bedroom for a moment before returning with a sly look on his face.

“I almost forgot,” he smiled. “I saw two aesthetically pleasing designs of wedding invitations today that I thought you might like.”

He held his empty palm out to your confused eyes, and then flicked his wrist, suddenly producing an invitation. 

“Option one,” he grinned at the surprise on your face. He repeated the motion with his other seemingly empty hand and another card appeared. “Or option two?”

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, standing. “How did I not know this about you?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he smiled. “And also Morgan told me not to show you until he was sure you would stick around afterwards,” he admitted. You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“You have to tell me how you do that!”

He shook his head, motioning a zipper over his lips with his hands. He extended the invitations to you, but you were too interested in this new side of him to care. He saw you advancing on him and stepped back.

“I won’t tell you my technique,” he warned. 

“What else can you do?” you asked. He quirked his head to the side.

“You don’t think this is… weird, or dorky?” he asked.

“Of course it’s dorky,” you laughed. “That’s why I love it.”

He looked at you in the way you imagined an astronomer looks at a newfound star.

“Really?” he questioned.

In response, you took the invitations from him and placed them on the table behind you. Then you advanced on him, taking his lips with yours and spoiling him with ravenous kisses.

“Oh--Okay,” he gasped in surprise, stumbling backwards as you pushed him towards the bed.

By the end of everything, Spencer was a panting mess beneath you. If anything, you thought to yourself, this would be positive reinforcement for him to keep being his adorable, dorky self for you. You couldn’t believe he’d kept this hidden until now.

Spencer rolled over and you let him spoon you, relishing in the kisses he planted on your neck.

“You never looked at the invitations,” Spencer mused between kisses.

“Sorry,” you smiled, not really sorry.

“Dr. and Mrs. Spencer Reid,” he said, giving your shoulder a lengthy kiss. He sighed happily. 

“You know, sometimes, I forget I’m marrying a doctor,” you said.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Might be the superhero underpants, the mismatching socks, or the fact that you look young enough to be a freshman in college,” you teased. 

“Hey,” he started to object, but found no flaw in your logic. Settling down, he rolled on his back, looking up at the ceiling. 

You rolled over to lay your head on his chest.

“I was thinking,” he said dreamily.

“Not  _ you, _ ” you mocked. He smirked.

“I was thinking,” he continued. “That we should get married in the park.”

“The park by my school?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “Numerically, that is the place that hold the most sentimental value.”

“Numerically,” you repeated, trying not to laugh. He nodded.

“Because of that date in that park, it was the first night that we were… together,” he blushed, remembering your first time you were truly intimate. “It was the night I told you I loved you, that I wanted you to move in with me. And it was in that park that I  _ knew,” _ he added.

“You  _ knew _ ?” you asked.

He looked at you as if you should know what that meant. 

Seeing that you did not, he added, “That this was it. That you were the one.”

The way he said things like that as if they were proven scientific facts always amazing you. You wondered if he had enough data to prove it as some kind kind of scientific theorem. 

“The park it is,” you managed to say before kissing him. He seemed confused at the attention you were giving this response, but soon closed his eyes in favor of savoring the sensation of the kiss.

The next few days were pretty uneventful. Spencer sent your engagement announcement into the paper, and when it arrived, you framed it. You managed to finish the first draft of your novel completely, and only had to type it up before having a few people read it.

You were in the bookstore, going over what Walter had taught you about bookkeeping, when a man walked into the store. He went outside for a moment after entering, looked up at the sign, and then came back in. He was tall, older, maybe in his fifties. He looked familiar for some reason, although you were sure you’d never seen him before.

He seemed nervous, and for a brief moment you wondered if, for some bizarre reason, he was going to rob the place. He seemed to take a deep breath, and decide something. He then walked over to your counter and laid his hands gently on the edges of the counter.

“Can I help you?” you asked. 

“I hope so,” he said. “Are you (Y/N?)”

Taken aback, you again assessed whether or not you felt you were in danger from this man. You knew Frank was in the back, all you needed to do was scream for help, but something told you that you were not in danger.

“Yes,” you replied hesitantly. Those eyes. There was something familiar in those eyes.

He seemed relieved by your answer for a microsecond before resuming his nervous composure.

“I’m William Reid,” he said. “Spencer’s father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, sorry you keep meeting Spencer's relatives on cliff hangers. More to come soon!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of emotion followed by a little bit of smut

You stared blankly at the man in front of you. Suddenly you knew why the eyes looked familiar, why the turn of his lip, and the way he held his shoulders matched images burned into your subconscious by the love of your life.

“M-Mr. Reid,” you managed after a long silence. 

Frank came out of the back room and you motioned for him to come over.

“Can you watch the front?” you asked, not waiting for an answer before motioning for Spencer’s father to follow you to the back room.

You felt like a traitor for some reason, like you were hiding a giant secret. You had not summoned him here, you were not guilty of anything so far, and yet it felt like treason to be talking to a man Spencer had yet to open up about, but so openly disliked.

Once you had closed the door, you crossed your arms in front of your chest and backed up against the wall. Mr. Reid stood across the room by the door you had brought him through. He wasn’t as nervous as Spencer sometimes got, but you could see the anxiety hidden under years of practiced calm.

“How do you know who I am?” you asked shyly.

“The paper,” he admitted, staying put by the door. “I get that paper delivered to me specifically because of…” he couldn’t say his son’s name, but you nodded to save him the trouble. “It said you owned this store, and I had to come once I knew.”

“Spencer doesn’t talk about you,” you said coolly. “Ever.”

His father nodded and his head fell in what seemed like defeat. He looked longingly at the chair and then made for it slowly. He knew he would have to speak after he had sat down and he dreaded it.

You stayed in your corner as far away from him as you could. There must be a good reason that Spencer was not connected to him anymore. When Mr. Reid finally took his seat, he managed to look at you.

“You seem like a very nice girl,” he said softly. For some reason this disarmed you. His eyes were tired, and you could tell he had thought about this conversation for a long time before coming here. “I’m not much of a father,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I was ever meant to be one.”

“I don’t know what happened with the two of you,” you said, “But I don’t feel comfortable--”

“I know,” he apologized. “This is unfair of me, I know. I didn’t know any other way to do this. I couldn’t go to him. And believe me, I feel cheap and sneaky coming to you, but I knew if I didn’t, I’d regret it.”

“You want to come to the wedding,” you guessed coolly. “Spencer didn’t put you on his list of guests.”

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Mr. Reid smiled sardonically. “When Spencer was little--”

“Stop,” you ordered. “I don’t want to hear the story from you.”

Spencer’s father held his hand up as if to say  _ fair enough. _

“I don’t expect you to invite me,” he said, sounding tired and weighed down. “All I ask is for you to talk to him on my behalf.”

“Why would I do that?” you asked. You hadn’t made up your mind about him, and didn’t plan to until Spencer told you the whole story.

“I’m not getting any younger,” he said. “And it’s times like these when I look back on my life and I see that I missed so much, that I made mistakes. I don’t want to go to the grave knowing that I didn’t see my son on the most important day of his life. Even if he doesn’t consider himself my son anymore.”

You were silent a few moments considering this.

“Are you dying?” you asked quietly. 

His gaze, which had been on the table, snapped up to you.

“It just sounds like--”

“It’s my heart,” he frowned. “They don’t know how long. They can’t fix it.”

You swallowed hard and unfolded your arms. 

“I’m sorry,” you managed.

He smiled grimly.

“Karma,” he shrugged.

You considered this face - this tired, sad, nothing-left-to-lose face, whose features reminded you in many ways of Spencer’s - and sighed.

“I will ask him,” you said finally.

Still having no background on what had occurred between this man and your fiance, you were not in a hurry to make promises. And yet, who could resist a dying man who simply wanted to attend his son’s wedding?

His features brightened significantly, and he stood.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m not promising anything,” you warned him. 

“I know,” he breathed heavily and cleared his throat. “I know. Thank you.”

He extended his hand to you and you let it hang there for a moment before taking it.

“Should I leave my information?” he asked, heading towards the door. 

“Leave whatever you like,” you said, not thinking so much about him right now, more about Spencer.

He gave you his business card which had his name, his number, and a handwritten address of a nearby hotel with a room number on the back.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely once you took the card. “And… If it doesn’t… work out… I wish you all the happiness in the world. He’s a good boy,” he said.

“I know,” you smiled minutely. “Thank you.”

You watched him go and stayed in the back room, collecting yourself. Your phone buzzed, but you ignored it. After about ten minutes, Frank came into the room, concern riddled on his features.

“You okay?” he asked. His young, carefree features were handsome, but you could just sense the naivete about him. He meant well, though, and was very sweet.

“Yes,” you assured him. “Thank you. I just needed a moment.”

He did not look placated, but nodded and left you alone to return to the front. You started walking to the front of the store as you checked your phone.

_ Four bodies found in Milwaukee, might be a week or so, love you. _

You read the text from Spencer. Of course, you thought. You had jinxed it, and now, when you needed to talk to him, he had left. It wasn’t his fault at all, you knew, but still, it felt like awful timing. You knew you couldn’t tell him this on a case, and you knew you’d feel guilty about it all week, or however long it took for the team to catch this one.

You tried to bury it down inside you, but you couldn’t stop trying to figure out what you would say to Spencer on his father’s behalf. Should you tell him that his father was dying? You felt a strange pull of wanting to have his father at your wedding. Yet, the information you were missing was critical. What if this man had been to jail for a violent crime? What if he had abused Spencer? The reasons for a rift between the two were endless, and not many suggested a decent father.

You couldn’t deny either, that even before he had told you about his health, you had had a gut feeling that he was a good person. Maybe not a good father, but a decent human being at least. You spent the rest of the day trying to immerse yourself in your customers and your organizing of the store, but thoughts of the encounter nagged at the back of your mind. Your brain went back to them like a small cut that you press just to make sure it still hurts.

At the end of the day, you locked up and went home, treating yourself to a bubble bath. You watched some mindless shows on your laptop in bed, until you fell asleep. You woke in the morning to your phone buzzing. You had gotten three messages overnight. It was early morning and you squinted to see your phone behind the brightness.

_ Night, love you. _

Read the first.

_ Can’t sleep, thinking of you. _

_ Have a wonderful day, my sun. _

You smiled at these messages until the memory of the previous day’s meeting came to you. Your heart sank. You wanted to tell Spencer, to ask him what happened, to clear everything up, but you couldn’t. People’s lives were at stake, and to distract him with something so domestic didn’t seem worth it. Certainly his father had not put Spencer before himself at any point, or so it seemed, so why would you put his father above innocent lives? You just hoped they would solve the case and get home before it tore you apart.

You responded to the good morning text and told him to go be a superhero for the day, you’d talk to him later that evening.

You sort of hoped he wouldn’t have time to call you on this trip, lest he could hear in your voice that you were keeping something from him.

You called in to Frank and asked him if he felt comfortable watching over the store for the day. You knew Walter was already settling in for his retirement, taking more days off than on in preparation for you taking over the store, so Frank would be alone. But, you also knew it would be a slow day, so you weren’t worried. Frank told you it would be no problem. He probably sensed something was up because of yesterday. You told him to call you if he needed anything and you’d be right now.

You decided to distract yourself during the day by typing up the written draft of your novel. It was time consuming. You had to focus on your messy handwriting, take into account all the scribbled notes on the sides, and edit your grammar. Thankfully, it distracted you quite well, and you were also productive.

So wrapped up were in you typing your pages, that it was only when the phone rang that you realized nearly the entire day had passed. Your stomach rumbled in protest at your neglect, but you picked up the phone first before attempting to satisfy it. It was Spencer, of course, and you almost dreaded to talk to him.

“Hi,” you said calmly.

“Hey,” he said. He always sounded farther away and exhausted when he was on a case. “How are you?”

“Um, I’m good,” you lied. “Got through a good part of typing up my novel today,” you said.

“When are you going to let me read it?” he asked, perking up.

“When it’s done,” you promised. If you were being honest, you were terrified of letting him read your work. 

“Okay,” he laughed at your tone. “Is that all you did today?” he asked.

The question was clearly innocent, but your nerves jumped all the same, thinking back to yesterday. Again, it wasn’t as if you had done anything wrong, you reminded yourself. You were simply waiting to tell him in person, when he was done saving the world.

“Yeah,” you said. “I sort of got into a rhythm and I haven’t really eaten or anything.”

“Oh, go eat then,” he said.

“No, no, tell me about what’s going on with you,” you said. “I can make something while I listen.”

He agreed and you started to make some dinner while he told you about the serial killer. He spared you the gruesome details, but told you enough to make you feel more solid in your decision to keep your secret a little longer.

“We’re getting close, though,” he assured you. “You know, it seems like I focus a lot better on these cases since I met you.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Makes me want to come home a lot faster when I know there’s a beautiful woman waiting there for me.”

You smiled.

“I miss you,” you said honestly. 

“I miss you too,” he said. Then, to someone else, “Stop it!”

“What was that?” you asked.

“Morgan’s making smooching noises at me,” he complained. “Oh, hold on, he wants to talk to you.”

The amusing distraction was welcome, and you laughed as the phone shuffled.

“Hey Mrs. Pretty Boy,” he addressed you. 

“Hello,” you chuckled at the nickname. 

“I just wanted to tell the both of you to get a hold of your love-sick selves. It has only been two days!” he jested. “And let’s be serious, I know you miss me more than him.”

You could hear the protests Spencer was making in the background and laughed harder.

“Just don’t tell Spencer,” you whispered.

“Oooo!” Morgan’s voice went up a few octaves. “Looks like you’ve got some competition, Pretty Boy,” Morgan teased. 

The phone shuffled again and Spencer resumed his composure before speaking.

“I do not,” he said to Morgan who was chuckling. Then to you, “He’s a child.”

“Oh yes,” you agreed, still smiling.

“I should go,” he admitted sadly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you answered. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said.

You could hear Morgan mocking you in the background before he hung up, and it kept the smile on your face as you ate dinner and cleaned up. Afterwards, you still thought about the encounter with Spencer’s father, but reasoned that you were right. Spencer had said he was focused, and that was good. It could wait a few days until he returned and there was no sense worrying about it until then.

You worked on your typing until it was time for bed just to make sure your mind didn’t wander into guilty territory, however, and soon afterwards fell asleep.

Over the next few days you finished typing up your novel, ran the store smoothly, and fielded calls from Spencer without giving away anything. His father’s business card was tucked into your wallet, waiting for an answer either way.

Spencer told you he was coming home on the first flight on Friday. He planned to be home in time for dinner, and you made sure you had the take out order at the ready to call in at the perfect time.

You almost forgot there was anything amiss when you saw his raggedy hair, his vest and tie, and his converse, waltz through the door.

The takeout arrived right behind him, and you had to pull yourself away from his lips to answer the door and pay the delivery man.

You settled in to a nice dinner, and you waited until you were both done eating to approach the subject. 

“So… I have something important to tell you,” you said, trying not to sound too grave.

“Something bad?” he read your tone.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “It might be.”

He pushed the food aside and held out his hand to you.

“What is it?”

You bit your lip and tried to find where to start. 

“Your father found me at the bookstore,” you said. “Last week. He approached me… He wanted me to ask you if he could come to the wedding.”

Spencer was clearly taken aback and he searched around looking for the words he needed.

“Last week?” he asked, incredulous. “And you didn’t tell me until now?”

The near-anger in his voice hurt you. This is what you had been afraid of.

“You were on a case,” you defended. “I didn’t want you to be distracted.”

“Last week,” he muttered. He considered this for a moment. “No, thank you, that was… That was the right call.”

You sighed. 

“What happened?” he asked.

You sighed and started from the beginning.

“He came to me because he knew he couldn’t come to you. He’s… he’s dying Spencer,” you couldn’t not tell him, you decided in that moment. “Some kind of heart condition. He said that he knows he hasn’t been a good father, but he just wants to be there for this one thing in your life before he goes.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“What’s what?”

“What heart condition?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he answered. You sensed this was some way to try and take control of the situation in which he felt so desperately lost in. “If it’s heart disease, eighty percent of men die within 8 years. One in five heart disease patients die within a year of diagnosis,” he recited. “If it’s--”

“Spencer,” you stopped him before he recited every heart condition known to man.

His eyes darted to yours at the interruption and almost immediately dropped their defenses. 

“What happened between you two?” you asked softly.

Spencer sighed and stood up.

“It’s a long story,” he said, sounding tired. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I should have waited until you had a good night’s rest before bringing this up.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said, turning around. “I can’t believe you held on to this for so long.”

“I didn’t want you to--”

“No, not for me. I’m sorry you had to deal with this  _ by yourself _ because of me,” he said. “That’s not fair to you.”

“I didn’t really think about me,” you admitted. 

He walked over to you and kissed your forehead. The gesture surprised you. You had expected him to be rather emotional, but he was tender. He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom. You both got into bed and nestled close to each other.

“When I was little, a boy in my school, Riley, went missing,” he said. His voice was strained, and he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. It seemed to be soothing him. “There was a man who had raped and murdered Riley, and no one knew. No one except my mother. A mother knows,” he said with what sounded like nostalgia. “She told the boy’s father after she saw the man looking at me and watched as he went, with a baseball bat, into the man’s house. She followed after hearing noises of a struggle.” He swallowed hard. “Riley’s father had killed the man who raped and murdered his son. My mother checked to see if he was dead and got his blood on her clothes. When she got home, my father saw that she could be implicated and burned the clothes for her. He never told me until we went back. I started having dreams about Riley. I thought it was my father who might have… But it wasn’t. My father left us because of that, though. He said that he, quote, ‘Didn’t know how to be my father anymore.’” He smiled grimly. “I always thought he left because of me,” Spencer’s voice verged on a sob. He took a moment to collect himself while you slid your hand down his jawline. “And in a way, he did,” he said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said. “He just had his own issues.”

“No. If I hadn’t played chess with that man, if I had just been a  _ normal _ kid, he wouldn’t have looked at me, my mother wouldn’t have done what she did, and my father would have stayed.”

“You don’t know that,” you said, unsure what else you could say. “It wasn’t about you. You weren’t to blame then, or now,” you assured him. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as a son, and it’s taken him this long to realize that.”

“Even after we went back… Even after I knew  _ why _ he had left… He still didn’t want me.”

“Maybe he just didn’t know how to tell you that he did,” you tried. He shook his head.

“He never understood me,” he said. “He wanted me to play baseball and chase after girls, but instead I stayed inside memorizing encyclopaedias and learning chess strategies. That whole thing just gave him an excuse to leave.”

You grimaced, not knowing if what you wanted to say had any merit. You had only met the man once.

“Just because he didn’t understand you, doesn’t mean he didn’t or doesn’t love you,” you offered. “I don’t understand the way the universe works, but I still love gazing at the stars.”

Spencer looked at you with his eyes brimming, but said nothing for a long moment.

“I can’t let him back into my life,” he managed to say.

“Why not?” you asked. 

“What if he… What if I let him in, and then he realizes he doesn’t want me again, and leaves?” he asked, completely vulnerable. A silent sob wracked his chest, and the tears spilled out.

You gathered him into your arms and he nestled his head under your chin. He held on to you with childlike vehemence as you kissed the top of his head and made soothing sounds until he settle down.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” you reminded him. 

“What do you think I should do?” he asked.

You thought about it a moment.

“There’s a few options,” you decided to lay it out for him. “Option one: you don’t invite him. You tell him that you don’t want to see him, or I can tell him, and we get married and forget about him. Maybe we go to the funeral, maybe not. Option two: We invite him, but we don’t talk to him or interact with him. He gets to go to the wedding, but it doesn’t affect us unless we want it to. Option three: You see him. You talk to him yourself and decide where you stand. After all that happened, maybe there’s something new that you haven’t had before.”

Spencer listened to all of these options in near silence. You finished speaking and listened to his gentle, even breath.

“I… I think I should see him,” he said quietly. “But I need you to come with me.”

You nodded and clutched him closer to you.

“Of course,” you assured him. “And Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Know that  _ I _ will never leave you,” you said quietly and clearly.

“I do,” he whispered. “I know.”

This calmed you, because sometimes you doubted whether or not he really understood or believed your commitment to him. You were quiet for a long time and it took you a while to realize that he had fallen asleep. You stayed up to make sure he stayed asleep, gently combing through his hair and even humming when he started to stir. He would soon settle after any stirring, and soon enough you fell asleep yourself.

You woke up in a similar position as you had fallen asleep in. Spencer’s head lay on your chest, his arm was wrapped around your stomach. Your arm was around him while your other hand rested in his hair. He stretched and his eyes fluttered open. You waited for him to look at you, and slowly, he turned his tired eyes upwards to see your face. He gazed at you for a long moment before removing himself from your arms and chest to kiss you good morning.

He got up slowly and moved towards the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he went. 

He looked back at you with some kind of request in his eyes, but said nothing. You waited until you heard him step in, and then you too shed your clothes and walked into the bathroom. The door to the shower was closed, and through the frosted glass you could see Spencer’s form just standing there. His head was tilted up towards the shower head, his hands in his hair, unmoving. You walked towards the shower and stood by the door, hand poised above the handle. Slowly, you opened it and slipped inside. The hot water was already starting to steam up the bathroom. Spencer’s hair was wet and hung down by the sides of his face. He stared at you as the water rolled down his cheeks, some of it lingering for a moment on his lips before dropping down onto his chest.

Neither of you said anything. He merely opened his arms up and you walked towards him. Pressing yourself against him, you felt the water start to hit you from behind, warming you even more. His hands captured you in a protective embrace, his hands seemingly magnetized to your body. He burrowed his head into the crook of your neck. Your hands found their way to his back and you held him. You gently kissed his neck, sucking at the warm, wet skin.

You could feel that his muscles were tense. You tried to tell him through your hands around his body and your lips against his skin that it was okay. It was okay to feel sorrow for a dying man even if you had long ago ceased to consider him your father. It was okay to want that man back in your life despite the promises you had undoubtedly once made to yourself. It was okay to be vulnerable, because you were here for him.

When you felt his muscles start to relax, you pulled away slightly. You grabbed the shampoo bottle and gathered a small amount into your palm, lathering it up before reaching up for his hair. He leaned down slightly and you massaged the shampoo into his hair, making sure to be gentle but thorough. Once you were done, you move him into the stream of water and he tilted his head back to wash it away. You repeated this with conditioner, and while he rinsed the second time, you looked at his shoulder.

You hadn’t paid much mind to the scar after all this time. You brushed over it with your fingers. It wasn’t very prominent. The bullet hadn’t gone into bone and had to be dug out, but it was still enough to leave a solid line where it had been taken out of the muscle. You thought about that time where he had lain motionless and unconscious on that bed for days. The uncertainty that he would return to you still felt like it was buried in your bones, ready to jump out the next time something like that happened.

Spencer brought his head down, having finished rinsing, and noticed you staring.

He brought his lips down to yours and kissed you. Then, he grabbed the shampoo bottle and treated you to the same lavish attention you had bestowed upon him. After he had rinsed you off, he stared at you. Your head was under the stream of water and you could feel the water running down your lips. 

He kissed you again and his hands started to roam your body. One wrapped around your waist while the other moved down your breast, down your stomach and between your legs. You gently parted them for him as his fingers moved to your folds. His thumb found your clit and started massaging it as you moaned into his mouth. He pressed you up against the wall of the shower as he slipped a finger inside you. You could feel his arousal against you. His tongue played with yours, begging you to give yourself over to him. His fingers slipped out of you and ran down your leg, urging you to wrap your legs around him. You obliged, and, jumping, he caught you, holding you in place between the wall and himself. You moved your hips to help position him and he slid into you easily. You both moaned in pleasure as he started to move in and out, the water hitting both of you from the side. You captured his mouth with yours and bit his lip in pleasure as he started to hit your most sensitive spot.

Your nails dug a little into his back as you held on to him. His lips left yours to gently nibble on your neck, but soon you were both in too much of a heated frenzy to think about anything other than your colliding bodies. He thrust deeper and faster into you, pressing you hard against the wall. The water was still hot on you and Spencer, spilling over you. You clutched onto him as you felt him release inside you, followed by your own pleasure rocketing through your body.

You held on to each other. He gently kissed your lips as you climbed down from him and stood with your back against the wall. You looked at him, and he at you. You smoothed the hair in front of his face to the sides.

“Thank you,” he whispered. You were about to ask what for until he said, “For just being there.”

You didn’t need to say anything. You just let him know with a kiss. 

After a moment, you turned off the shower and toweled off. As you hung your towel up to dry, you felt Spencer behind you, wrapping his arms around you.

“I love you so much,” he spoke gently against your ear. 

“I love you too,” you replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if I didn't 100% accurately describe that childhood case. It's been a while since I saw that episode, but the details didn't matter too much so forgive any slight differences.


	22. Chapter 22

Spencer’s finger tapped the side of his leg nervously as he looked up at the hotel’s entrance sign. You watched as he bit his lip and stood as though his feet were bolted to the ground. 

“We can go in when you’re ready,” you reminded him.

The decision to see his father had not been made lightly, and you were starting to wonder if he needed more time, or if he was going to go through with his decision at all. He glanced over at you a few moments after you had spoken, like the words had taken a long time to get to him and he had just heard them.

“Fifteen million U.S. children, or 1 in 3, live without a father, and nearly 5 million live without a mother,” he recited. “Statistically, I’m not different than one third of the nation.”

You entwined your hand with his.

“Statistically, how many of those fathers protected their families?” you asked quietly. 

This got his attention and he turned to you.

“Maybe he wasn’t the best father, but he was a good husband, at least in that moment,” you tried, unknowing if it were your place at all.

“I understand why he did what he did, it’s just… I don’t understand how I was a factor. I don’t understand why he didn’t know how to be a father to me. Why I was un-father-able.”

There was still pain in his eyes, but you squeezed his hand.

“This might be your chance to figure all this out,” you encouraged. You saw his foot twitch. “I’ll be right here with you,” you reminded him.

With that, he moved his foot towards the door and you both walked in through the entrance. His father had given you the room #407 as the one he was staying in, and the nice doorman showed you the way to the elevator.

Riding up in silence, you could see that Spencer was completely in his head. No doubt he was imagining the different scenarios that might happen once he stepped into his father’s room. You doubted if he could truly predict whatever was about to happen.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, you calmly led him out of the elevator. His palms had started to sweat and his breath seemed uneven. You found #407 and stood outside.

“When you’re ready,” you reminded him.

Spencer’s hand twitched at his side before he brought his fist up to the door. It waivered slightly before knocking three times.

You heard footsteps and Spencer looked like he might run, but before he could, the door opened. Although you had called him to tell him you would be coming by with Spencer, he still looked shocked to see the two of you. He smiled at you, but couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from his son. There was a moment of silence which you almost filled, but Mr. Reid beat you to it.

“Come in,” he said warmly, moving aside to allow you entrance.

Spencer said nothing, but his grip on your hand tightened as you walked in together. The room was spacious, but not overwhelming. There was a small kitchen to the left with a counter and chairs. In the center, across from the door were two large glass doors leading out to a small balcony, in front of them sat a small table with four chairs. On the right was the bed, unmade, but not messy. A suitcase lay at the foot of it, almost full of clothes. A bathroom stood to the right of the door. 

“Please, take a seat. Can I offer you anything? Food? Water?” he asked. He was wringing his hands like Spencer sometimes did when he was nervous.

“I think water for me,” you tried to sound casual. “Anything for you?” you asked Spencer. He shook his head.

“One water then,” Mr. Reid said as he moved swiftly to the cabinets in the kitchen. 

You and Spencer took your seats on one side of the table. His hand never left yours. You touched his arm with your free hand to try to reassure him, but he was carefully studying his father.

“What is it?” Spencer asked, breaking the silence that had thus far been filled by the chore of getting your water. “There are hundreds of heart diseases and afflictions and I had little to no knowledge of your symptoms.”

Mr. Reid did not look surprised by Spencer’s bluntness and set your water down in front of you without missing a beat.

“It’s an inoperable tumor,” he recited, taking a seat. “Too much drinking weakens the heart, and to even attempt surgery would most likely be a death sentence,” he said. “Apparently.”

Spencer swallowed hard and was silent.

“They could--”

“Spence,” his father interrupted. “They can’t do anything, I promise.”

Spencer did not look deterred, but you laid your hand on his arm to steady him.

“Besides, I didn’t ask you here to talk about that.”

His father’s eyes drifted to you. He smiled slightly, and then addressed his son.

“I know I haven’t been a father to you for most of your life. If any of your life,” he said. “And I’m not asking for that position now… I’m just asking you to let me come and see you get married.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, defensive.

Mr. Reid sighed. 

“Because, although I’ve done just about everything to prove otherwise, Spencer, I do love you. And I don’t want to go to my grave without supporting you in one endeavor.”

Spencer seemed to consider this.

“No,” he said suddenly.

You turned to him, about to object, but he kept going.

“You don’t get to play the dying card, William,” he addressed his father by his first name. “I had waited my whole life for you to say that, and this is the only time you have ever said it.”

“That’s not true,” his father objected angrily.

“I have an eidetic memory,” Spencer said proudly. “I remember everything you’ve ever said or done since I was two and a half years old. And never once in my memory have you ever said those words to me.”

His father looked at a loss. He seemed like he might protest, but reconsidered and remained silent.

“He’s saying it now,” you said quietly after a short silence.

Spencer turned to you with a small about of betrayal in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry that’s taken me this long,” William added.

Spencer shifted in his seat, seemingly keeping himself from bolting out of the room. 

Finally, he stood and let go of your hand. He walked out of the glass doors and onto the balcony, leaving the doors open behind him. You threw William an apologetic look before following Spencer and closing the door behind you. 

Spencer had both hands on the railing of the balcony, staring over the edge at the people walking below. You approached him slowly, laying a hand softly on his lower back. He didn’t seem to notice and kept staring blankly ahead. You leaned your head against his shoulder and waited for him to say something. You heard William move inside, probably to give you more privacy.

“He can’t do that,” Spencer said through his teeth. “He can’t just do that.”

“Why not?” you asked. “Don’t they say better late than never?”

“You don’t just get an excuse to do something because you’re dying. You are who you are, dying doesn’t change that, or it shouldn’t.”

“What about you?” you asked. 

“Me?”

“When you found it was possible that you could inherit your mother’s illness. Did it change you?”

His eyes were already filled with emotion, and this caused him to shut them and shake his head, trying to block all of this out.

“That’s different,” he said.

“Did it change you?” you asked again.

“Of course,” he said fiercely.

“How?”

“It made me afraid,” he said weakly.

“Of?”

“Of losing the people I cared about. Of forgetting them.”

You nodded, rubbing his back tenderly.

“And you didn’t worry about losing people before that?” you asked.

“Not in the same way, not constantly,” he admitted.

“Isn’t it possible that--”

“You’re suggesting that because of my father’s illness he might have changed as a person?” he asked. “His priorities might have legitimately changed, and I should be able to empathize with that?”

You nodded, hoping it might sound like a valid argument to him.

“I’m not saying you have to say yes,” you told him. “To anything. Just listen, and try to understand where he’s coming from.”

Spencer took a deep breath and his eyes drifted from you to the door. 

“Okay,” he said finally. 

Your heart lept a little. You hadn’t thought that would work. The wounds that William had caused were as deep as Spencer’s childhood. The fact that he was willing to give it a try was encouraging.

You followed Spencer back through the glass doors and took a seat after he did. William was in the kitchen, presumably because he had been waiting there, and returned. 

Spencer’s voice was calm and low, he looked at his hands when he spoke.

“I’m not saying no,” he said. “But I’m not saying yes either. Just… Give me time to think?” he asked.

His father sighed with relief and nodded eagerly.

“That’s all I asked,” he said. “Thank you.”

He seemed genuinely relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he looked at you gratefully.

Spencer nodded and looked to you for guidance as to what to do next.

“Maybe we can come by later in the week if Spencer’s not on a case?” you suggested to both of them.    
“I would love that,” William answered tentatively, waiting of his son’s reaction.

“Alright,” Spencer conceded.

It wasn’t Lifetime movie stuff, but it was good enough for you. 

“Well, we’ll get out of your hair then,” you said, standing up. Spencer followed suit. “We’ll call you.”

The both of you walked towards the door, and William stood hesitantly, unsure if he should follow. Feeling particularly sympathetic in the moment, you moved to hug the man, hoping that he would feel, at least for a moment, a little less alone. William was surprised by the contact, but obliged and seemed calmed by your embrace. You stepped away and looked to see what Spencer would do. He stood with his hands in front of him, wringing them together as he bit his lip.

“We’ll call you,” Spencer said and he nodded before slipping out the door, leaving it open for you to follow.

You flashed William an apologetic look and waved, following Spencer outside. He was already by the elevator, repeatedly pushing the down button with his finger. You walked over to him and draped yourself around him, pulling his attention away from the button.

“You did well,” you said soothingly. You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Every time I look at him, I just see Riley,” he mumbled. “But with you… It wasn’t as bad.”

“Good,” you replied.

The elevator arrived and the two of you stepped in, minding the other passengers. You slipped your hand into his and he smiled at you. It wasn’t a smile that reached his eyes, but it was a comforted look, and you were satisfied.

As you walked into the apartment, an idea sprung to mind and you dropped Spencer’s hand to race to your laptop. Spencer watched you curiously as you presented your laptop to him.

“You need something to cheer you up, yes?” you asked. “Would you like to read what I’ve got so far?”

You didn’t know whether or not your writing was very good, or to his liking, but you knew he had been looking forward to it for a long time, and it seemed like a good time to both reward him and get his mind off thinking about his father for a little while.

He glanced up at you and you saw true excitement in his eyes. He grabbed the laptop from you and took it to the couch. You paced along as he read silently. Even though it seemed like he was merely skimming, you knew for his usual reading speed, this was slow. He was taking his time with it. After a little while you got tired of pacing and sat down on the couch facing him, watching his reactions. It didn’t take him too much over an hour before he had finished reading the entire novel.

You had been staring into space when you heard the laptop close. Your eyes snapped to his face, it was unreadable.

“Well?” you asked. 

A wide smile spread across his face, making his eyes light up and eliciting from his lips a joyous laughter.

“It’s amazing!” he exclaimed.

You released the breath you’d been holding and laughed in relief.

“You mean it?” you confirmed.

“I would tell you if I didn’t like it,” he admitted. “But it’s really incredible. Where did you get the inspiration?”

You looked at him incredulously.   
“It’s us,” you explained. It was so obviously your love story. All the events of your relationship were clearly played out, just in a fantasy world.

He cocked his head to the side.

“I thought I recognized you as the main character, but there’s no way I’m the White Knight.”

You laughed, unable to see how it could be any other person.

“Oh, you mean the man who is silly but gallant, brave but wise, extremely intelligent, and unconventionally handsome?” you asked.

Spencer searched your face for a lie, but he found nothing. He looked down at the laptop and blushed.

“That’s… That’s really how you see me?” he asked.

You moved the laptop out of the way and straddled his lap. Looking down at him, he tilted his head up, watching you with wide, innocent eyes.

“Yes,” you promised, and kissed him.

“Does that mean Morgan was the wisecracking pegasus?” he smirked.

“He can never know,” you warned.

“Who do you think is going to be the first to point it out to him when this is published?” Spencer laughed.

“You think this could get published?” you asked. Spencer nodded.

“I think there’s a few things that a publisher would like to change, but nothing major. I’m sure the team knows someone who could help you out.”

Your heart nearly fled your chest with all its joy. You kissed him again and giggled.

“Thanks for that,” he smiled. “It was a lovely distraction.”

“Still thinking about your dad?” you asked.

He nodded.

“And Riley,” he said, suddenly feeling very far away.

“What happened to that boy was not your fault,” you reminded him.

“I know,” he said. “Doesn’t help  _ feeling _ like I could have done something, though.”

“What are you going to do about your father?” you asked tentatively.

Spencer looked at you carefully.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” you said. “We can wait as long as we want to send out invitations.”

“We should really pick a date,” he mused. 

“Eventually,” you agreed. “But until then, I can think of another way to distract you. At least for the rest of the day,” you smiled impishly.

He took a moment to register your insinuation and then smiled. You kissed him as he picked you up and led you to the bedroom. You spent most of the rest of the day in the bedroom. Most of the day was spent making love, and by the end of the day you and Spencer were pretty wiped out. He played with your hair as you snuggled in bed after dinner.

“I think I’ll do it,” he said out of nowhere.

“What?” you asked lazily, lost in the sensation of his fingers in your hair.

“Let my father come to the wedding,” he answered calmly.

You pulled away to look at him seriously.

“Really?” you asked. “Why?”

He glanced at your laptop and then back to you.

“Because I want to be the White Knight from your story. I want to be how you see me. And he would do this. He would let my father come.”

You kissed him after he said this. You could feel that this decision had lessened his anxiety considerably.

“You’re always my White Knight, Spencer Reid,” you smiled.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short and has taken me like ten years to write! I'll update faster and longer next time!

Planning a wedding was almost as stressful as being kidnapped by serial killers. Although Spencer did not appreciate that comparison, you knew he was stressing out as well. Even though you had decided to have a small wedding, there were still so many things to take care of. You had to find a company to decorate the section of the park, fill it with a tent and furniture for the reception, find catering, and send out a bunch of invitations. 

While neither of you had too many friends and family to invite, it was still a relatively lengthy list. Once you put it together, you realized you wouldn’t be able to do all of the invitations by yourselves as quickly as you needed to. You recruited Morgan and Penelope to help you fill out and send invitations. You had chosen a date a few months away, and already you were wondering it if would be enough time to finish everything. The date, however, was already printed on the invitations, so it gave you a lot of incentive to make sure everything was figured out by then.

Morgan, it turned out, had the best handwriting of the lot of you. You gave him the names from the list that you most wanted to impress. Spencer was given envelope licking duty because of his chicken scratch handwriting, but he opted to use glue, citing what had often been found in chemical analyses of an envelope's sticky strip.

Going down the list of names you had been given was starting to be fun. You would ask about names you didn’t know and Spencer would fill you in. Sometimes he revealed them to be victims he had saved and kept in touch with, ones that particularly bonded with him; others were relatives; even others were agents they’d worked with in other parts of the country that had kept in touch.

You arrived upon one name on the list you didn’t recognize and asked about him.

“Who’s Jason Gideon?” you asked. 

Everyone at the table stopped what they were doing to look at you. Morgan and Penelope then looked at Spencer. For some reason, the table’s atmosphere had gone from fun to very serious at the mention of this man’s name. He couldn’t be dead, you thought. He wouldn’t have been on the invite list. 

“He used to work with us,” Morgan answered you finally. Spencer looked at you with intense sadness for a moment and then collected himself.

“He probably won’t even come,” Spencer said quietly. 

Penelope laid a hand on Spencer’s arm and gave a sad smile.

“He might,” she said. “You never know.”

Spencer shrugged, and you waited a moment before handing him Gideon’s invitation. It felt like you were on the outside of something very important to Spencer.

“I’m sorry,” you said, unsure how else to break the silence now.

“It’s okay,” Morgan promised. “We just haven’t heard from Gideon in a while. He kind of left abruptly so we’re all still a little sore in that area,” he added.

After that incident, you tried to restore things to their previous feelings of enjoyment, but even Penelope was stuck in a kind of rut. You finished up the invitations and Morgan and Penelope left, still somber. 

When the door closed, you turned to Spencer who was organizing envelopes.

“So?” you asked. “Do I get a full story, or do I just guess why the mere mention of a man casts a dark cloud over all of you?”

Spencer sighed and looked tiredly at you.

“It’s nothing sad or dramatic, really,” he explained. “Gideon just had enough of profiling and left,” he shrugged.

“And he was important to you?” you asked. 

Spencer nodded.

“Like a father,” you guessed. He nodded again.

You went to hug him and felt his arms close around you. You said nothing more on the subject, which Spencer seemed grateful for. You wondered if this Gideon person would actually show up to the wedding. It appeared that he had essentially become a recluse and you highly doubted it, but hoped he would for Spencer’s sake. While his biological father would be in a attendance, you knew that Gideon’s presence would be much more reassuring.

The next few weeks were some of the busiest of your life. Somehow, with the help of the team, you managed to get everything in order for the wedding date, which was fast approaching. All the catering and decorations were taken care of, and most of the guests had responded that they were coming. 

Spencer’s mother even decided to make the trip down, despite the fact that she would need to be accompanied by an aid, which she hated. Spencer’s father had, of course, responded that he would be in attendance. You noticed Spencer checking the mail and his emails more frequently, as Gideon had still not responded.

You and Spencer had chosen two people to be in your bridal party, since it was such a small gathering for a wedding. He had JJ and Hotch, while you had Morgan and Penelope.

Originally, you had thought of having the girls on your side, and the boys on Spencer’s. That was traditional, and what everyone assumed. However, when you told this to the group, Morgan objected. 

“So, JJ and Penelope will be my bridesmaids, and Morgan and Hotch will be Spencer’s groomsmen,” you had announced beside a smiling Spencer.

“Hold on, hold on,” Morgan interjected mischievously. 

“What?” you asked, laughing.

“Is this set in stone? Because I have some opinions,” he answered, stepping closer to you.

“Um, I don’t know,” you chuckled. “What are your opinions?”

“Well, seeing as I am responsible for this entire thing,” he grinned broadly, “I think I should be able to choose my side of the party.”

“Who says you’re responsible?” Spencer objected.

Morgan simply gave him a look, and silenced him. 

“As I was saying, since I am the one who made this wedding happen, I choose (Y/N)’s side.”

He grinned again and walked over to give you a hug, picking you off the ground and swinging you around as you laughed.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Spencer frowned.

Morgan put you down and smiled at him.

“Man’s gotta go where spotlight is,” he said, pointing to you.

“Well, I love you,” JJ addressed you, but walked over to Spencer. “But I would be more than happy to support my son’s Godfather.”

Spencer smiled happily at her and the matter seemed to be settled, unorthodox as it was. You all went out to dinner that night to celebrate, and Hotch brought Jack along per your request. When you asked Jack if he would like to be in the wedding, to be your ring bearer, he signed on right away, despite having no idea what that position was.

You weren’t huge on fashion, but you found a beautiful dress at a local wedding boutique that was in your price range and fit you perfectly. The pageantry of all those shows and making a big deal out of the dress just didn’t make sense. It wasn’t about how you looked, it was about your commitment to Spencer. Still, you couldn’t help but notice how the dress was perfect, and sure to make Spencer drool.

After a few more weeks, it seemed like almost everything was coming together. Hotch had found a publisher for you, and you had sent your draft over to her the week after you had completed your wedding designs. You also hired another person to help with the bookstore since Frank would soon be leaving for college and Walter was pretty much retired. Her name was Alyssa, and she was just as passionate about books and writing as you were. You felt safe leaving the store with her when you needed to be away.

Discounting Gideon’s lack of response, almost everything was perfect. However, as you sat at the kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper and a pen, you couldn’t think of anything to write for your vows. There was just… so much, you were afraid you’d end up writing another novel. How could you accurately express the feelings inside you? It seemed a near impossible task.

One morning, when Spencer had returned from a case and had a few days off, he was making some tea while you sat with your blank page.

You groaned in annoyance at the lack of words your brain provided.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pouring the steaming water into a mug.

“Did you write your vows yet?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, steeping his tea bag. “I wrote them the night you said yes. The first time,” he added. 

You gaped at him.

“Really?” you asked.

“Well, no,” he smiled coyly. “I’ve sort of been writing them in my head ever since I knew…” he trailed off, looking oddly guilty.

You lowered your head into your hands and groaned again.

“I’m the worst,” you muttered. “I’m supposed to be the writer and I have nothing.”

Spencer reached out his hand for yours. You laid it gently in his.

“You don’t need vows,” he said. “I know how you feel.”

You shook your head.

“It’s important,” you insisted. 

“Maybe try some free writing,” he suggested.

He got up to add some sugar to his tea, and kissed your forehead.

“I know you’ll think of something. And if not, that’s okay too,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes, more in annoyance of yourself than him. He drank his tea and read the paper as you continued to stare at the blank page.

You took a few deep breaths and then did as he suggested. You just… wrote. You blathered on about your feelings for Spencer, hoping that something eloquent would come out of it.

After writing for nearly an hour, you put the papers away, waiting for a time when you could look at it with fresh eyes. You walked over to Spencer who was still on the couch. He had finished reading the paper long ago and was napping. You watched him for a moment before he woke, having sensed a change in the light, or heard your footsteps. He blinked slowly and smiled when he saw you standing over him.

He moved over and you slid onto the couch, resting your head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“I’m going back over it later,” you said.

He sighed contentedly and hugged you closer to him.

“We’re getting married,” he said dreamily. You chuckled. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“It just hits me sometimes,” he remarked. “Where do you want to go for the honeymoon?”

“Oh,” you exclaimed. “I hadn’t really thought about that.”

“Pick a place,” he said easily. “I would follow you anywhere.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” you said.

You tried to picture the two of you on a beach somewhere, but you just couldn’t imagine Spencer in a bathing suit, willingly going out into the direct sunlight for hours. There were places you wanted to go visit, of course, but you weren’t sure that a honeymoon would be the best time. You wanted to have the money to spoil yourselves, and the time to linger. Maybe just a trip to somewhere nearby coupled with a whole week to yourselves would be nice. The more you thought about it, the nicer it seemed.

“I just want to spend time with you,” you decided after a few moments.

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer smiled.

You ended up falling asleep and napping for some time on the couch with him. You dreamt of the perfect wedding, but when you woke, you couldn’t remember a word of the vows you had said.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took forever, hopefully it was worth the wait! Honeymoon/wedding night will be next chapter.

Despite your protests, and Spencer’s arguments, Penelope would have none of your complaints. You were going to stay at her place the night before the wedding, end of story. She wanted to spend the night with you, and then help you with everything in the morning. Not to mention, the groom seeing the bride before the wedding was a huge superstition that she would not overlook. Although Morgan couldn’t be convinced to join in the night time activities that Penelope had planned for you, he did vow to be there at the crack of dawn should you need him that early, to help you get ready.

You packed up some things to stay the night at Penelope’s, carefully grabbed your dress and veil, and stood at the open door. Penelope took your bag from you while you turned to Spencer.

“Hotch has the rings to give to Jack, and if you need anything, I’m sure you can call him,” you assured Spencer, who was looking utterly lost.

“I still don’t understand why you have to stay at Garcia’s,” he nearly whined.

“Because she’s getting  _ married _ tomorrow,” Garcia rolled her eyes and laughed. “And not like kindergarten married where you wed someone under the pine tree one day and then another kid next to the swings the next day. So we need some real prep here.”

Spencer’s lips formed a tight line, but he didn’t argue.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, eh?” you winked at him. He blushed and nodded. You kissed him quickly and followed Penelope out of the building and into her car.

Once on your way, you looked longingly out the window as your apartment building faded into the distance.

“Miss him already?” Penelope smiled at you.

You laughed.

“Is it stupid if I say yes?” you asked shyly.

She shook her head.

“It’s sweet,” she said.

The two of you drove to her apartment, and you realized the last time you’d been there overnight had been when you and Spencer had been temporarily broken up. You flinched at the memory, but pushed it away, knowing there was far more good in your relationship than bad.

Penelope had done more than you anticipated. On her counter stood not only quite a few of your favorite desserts, but also a whole section devoted to an at-home spa treatment. You hung your dress and hugged her after she put your bag away.

“This looks amazing,”  you said.

“I figured we could treat ourselves tonight,” she smiled. “I personally want to try the avocado face mask,” she wriggled with excitement before going over to the counter.

You two pampered and relaxed for the night, watching your favorite movies and laughing quite a lot. In the middle of the second movie, with your faces covered in avocado, there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Penelope yelled, too comfortable to get up from the couch.

“It’s me, baby girl,” you heard Morgan’s voice through the door.

Penelope snickered.

“I thought this was too ‘girly’ for you?” she asked teasingly.

“I just wasn’t man enough,” he said, heavy on the guilty sound in his voice. “Can I come in?”

Penelope looked at you for consent, and you nodded.

“You may enter, my chocolate warrior,” Penelope said.

Morgan entered tentatively, holding a bottle of wine and a DVD case.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. Then, seeing the two of you, “I see you have already started.”

“Come on,” you motioned for him to come over. “I’ll do your facial.”

He looked at you skeptically for a moment, but then smiled. He put down the wine and the movie and sat down on the couch. You began applying his facial while he sat still.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“Don’t move,” you scolded him. “And no, of course not.”

Morgan shrugged.

“I would be,” he said.

“Shhh, no talky with face masky,” Penelope warned.

Morgan sighed, but waited until you had covered his face in avocado before speaking again.

“So, no nerves, no doubts?” he asked again.

You grabbed a piece of chocolate.

“Nah,” you assured him. “Why, are  _ you _ nervous?” you teased.

“No,” he laughed. “But I think you’re incredibly brave.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Yeah, she’s not taking a bullet or anything,” Penelope piped in.

“No, but it’s crazy to commit like that. It’s more courage than I have right now,” Morgan said. “I’m just proud of you, that’s all,” he smiled.

“Marriage is technically just a piece of paper,” you shrugged. “What we have is more permanent than that. And a wedding? A wedding is just kind of a way to let people know that this is for real, and to let them celebrate that with us.”

“Well, it’ll be one hell of a celebration if I have anything to say about it,” Morgan grinned. “You haven’t seen my dance moves in full swing yet.”

“I’m not sure I could handle it,” you said.

Morgan got up and began to move his hips.

“Here’s a taste,” he whispered as he started to dance to no music.

You and Penelope were in a fit of laughter by the time he was done. A timer went off and you checked it. It was time to take the facials off. Morgan seemed the most amazed by the smooth state it had left your skin in.

You spent the rest of the night watching movies. Morgan had brought a surprisingly romantic film.

“Didn’t peg you for a rom-com kind of guy,” you remarked.

“I’m multi-layered,” he grinned.

“He uses it to get girls in the mood,” Penelope rolled her eyes.

“Hey! I take offense at that!” he jested. “I am a sensitive guy.”

While he was joking, you were thankful that he was actually a nice, sensitive man who you could call your friend.

The night carried on until about midnight, when everyone decided you had better get to bed, or else you’d all be tired in the morning. Penelope’s bed was large enough for the two of you, and Morgan was more than happy to collapse on the couch. You got ready for bed and went into the living room to wish Morgan a good night.

“Come here,” he said softly. 

You padded over to him and stood in front of him. He put his hands on your shoulders.

“I don’t say this to a lot of people,” he said, sounding almost uncomfortable. “But…”

He cleared his throat.

“I love you too,” you smiled warmly at him.

He let out the breath he’d been holding while trying to gather up the words. He smiled and pulled you into a hug.

“Hey, Mama wants some sugar too,” Penelope said from the doorway. “Why are we hugging?” she said, as you opened up your arms to let her into the now group hug.

“Morgan was just telling me that he loves me,” you said smugly.

“Oh, well I can get in on that,” she smiled. 

The three of you stood there for a few moments, and you relished in your luck at having such amazing friends.

“Alright, alright, bed time,” Morgan said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The three of you pulled apart. 

“Night,” you said to Morgan. 

“Sleep tight,” he responded.

_ Unlikely _ , you thought. You knew you wouldn’t sleep well at all tonight. You were too excited for tomorrow.

Penelope led you into the bedroom and closed the door. You slipped into your side of the bed and checked your phone. Spencer had texted you.

_ Goodnight, my sun. _

You smiled at the screen as you responded.

_ Goodnight, my moon. _

“Is that Spencer?” Penelope asked of your phone.

“Yeah, just saying goodnight,” you said.

“Are you so excited for tomorrow?” she asked, smiling broadly.

You nodded. 

“I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight,” you confessed.

“I know, me either,” she said. “Not that it’s  _ my _ day, obviously, but you and Reid are so important to me, it’s so exciting.”

She nestled in under the covers and you put your phone on the bedside table. You said goodnight, although neither of you fell asleep for a few hours.

When the alarm did go off in the morning, you almost cursed it before you remembered that today was a day you actually wanted to get up for. Penelope groaned, but when she opened her eyes she nearly screamed.

“Today’s the day!!” she said, jumping out of bed. “Come on!”

She ran over to your side of the bed and pulled at your hand. You laughed and let her pull you out of bed, blinking the sleep away from your eyes. She waited in the middle of the room, your hand still in hers.

“Okay… Now what?” she said.

You laughed.

“Shower?” you asked. 

“Right!” she exclaimed. “Okay, you go do that, and I will set up the hair stuff and your dress and some breakfast.”

You left the room to go into the living room, where you found Morgan was in the kitchen.

“You got your sunny side up, your scrambled, and your over easy,” he said, pushing a few plates of eggs and toast towards you on the counter.

“My hero,” Penelope sighed. “Okay, breakfast, then shower, then beauty.”

You were highly entertained by your prep team, and did as you were told. Spencer texted you good morning and you responded in kind. When breakfast was over, you slipped on the undergarments you’d be wearing under the dress, and topped it with a button up shirt for easy changing after Penelope did your hair.

While Penelope was curling your hair, Morgan went to work making sure you had everything you needed in one bag. 

“Don’t forget that little journal,” you said, pointing to a small notebook. “My vows are in there.” Morgan began to open it. “Hey, hey! You’ll hear it at the wedding,” you scolded him.

He closed the notebook and put it in your bag. He packed a few other things you would need and sat patiently, watching the curling process.

“Damn, you girls have to go through so much,” he remarked. “I bet Pretty Boy’s still asleep.”

“No, he’s up,” you promised. 

“Still, he’s not going through this craziness. Worth it though,” he smiled warmly at you.

Despite her usually eccentric hairstyles, Penelope did your hair beautifully. You had considered hiring someone to do your hair and makeup, but in the end decided against it. It felt impersonal and just not  _ you. _

You did your own makeup, a little more enhanced than usual, but nothing over the top. You just wanted everything to be natural, almost casual, because that’s what your relationship was like. Time was running especially fast, and before you knew it, the limo driver your parents had insisted on hiring had called to tell you he was nearly there. You had a few hours to drive down to the park where everything was set up, so you took your dress with you, planning on changing into it when you got there. Spencer, JJ, Hotch, and Jack were taking a separate limo, and Frank and Walter had gone down the night before and stayed in a hotel nearby. Since your parents lived down there, they were meeting you at the hotel you’d be getting ready at. You warned the team that you hadn’t told your parents about the last kidnapping, since nothing had come of it, and they were already worried about Spencer’s job and life being too dangerous.

Morgan and Penelope had changed into their wedding clothes for the trip, and they looked stunning. Morgan had on a very form-fitting tux, and Penelope had a flowing red dress. Morgan’s bow tie matched her dress perfectly. JJ was going to be wearing the same style, and Hotch’s and Spencer’s attire would mimic Morgan’s.

You did one last check to make sure you had everything, and let with Morgan and Penelope. You loaded into the limo, where the friendly driver offered his congratulations. The drive was long, but it passed fairly quickly between singing classic road trip songs and talking with the two of them.

You honestly couldn’t wait for the wedding just because you missed Spencer so much. You wished there wasn’t a stupid superstition, but it seemed everyone was inclined to believe it, and so you would have to wait to see the man you would spend the rest of your life with until the altar.

You rummaged through your bag to look at your vows one more time. You had memorized them already, but seeing the printed words on the page made you feel safer somehow, like if they weren’t tangible, they’d somehow slip away before you could say them. Your fingers then immediately leapt to your heart pendant which you hadn’t taken off since the day you got back together with Spencer. You kissed it and let it fall back on your chest. 

“We’re here,” the limo driver announced. 

He pulled up in front of the hotel you would be getting ready in. It was essentially across the street from the park, and made a convenient preparation hub.

Morgan and Penelope got out before you.

“JJ said they’re a few minutes behind us, so we’re safe,” Morgan said.

“Safe?” you asked.

“You won’t run into him, no bad luck!” Penelope explained.

“Right,” you laughed.

Morgan and Penelope ushered you upstairs. Frank, Walter, and your parents all greeted you outside your room. You hugged each of them. A few weeks before, when you had been planning your wedding, you discovered that Walter was a certified Justice of the Peace. His subsequent request to be the one to marry you had been immediately answered affirmatively. 

Your parents were already emotional, and couldn’t stop hugging and kissing you. 

Word came through Morgan that Spencer had arrived and they hid you away in your room. His room was right next to yours.

The wedding was only a few hours away and everyone was fussing around you, trying to make sure everything was in order. Your mother assured you that she had been to the park, and everything was set up for the ceremony and reception. The weather forecast predicted a mild day with little to no chance of rain. Your mother and Penelope helped you into your dress, and you touched up your makeup and hair. Everything seemed to be in line for the ceremony, but people were still buzzing around, trying to be helpful.

“Hey,” you gathered everyone’s attention. “Would you guys mind maybe going for a short walk or something? I’d just like a moment alone,” you requested. 

They all looked at you and smiled, promising to be back within ten minutes. You swiftly took out your phone and texted Spencer.

_ Come to my door. _

Your phone buzzed moments later.

_ I can’t see you before the wedding! _

You looked around and found a handkerchief. 

_ I have a blindfold _

You waited for a response, but a few moments later you heard a light tapping on the door. You got up, feeling the excitement burning in your chest. You slipped your hand out the door and gave him the makeshift blindfold. You felt him take it and waited for him to tie it around his head. He pushed the door open slowly and made his way inside. His tux was well fitted to him and his red bow tie was just a little crooked - a detail you didn’t care to correct. You grabbed his hands and led him into the room.

“I’m not sure this is allowed either,” he said. “Feels like cheating.”

“Feels good to be a little rebellious, doesn’t it?” you teased. He smiled.

You pulled him into a kiss and held him there, relishing the feeling you had missed for nearly 24 hours.

“We’re doing this,” you said in a hushed, but excited tone. “It’s really happening.”

“I know,” he grinned.

It felt like you were children conspiring to steal some candy. It filled you with a strange giddiness, that, although inspired by an adult activity, was more akin to that of your kindergarten self on Christmas morning. And this pseudo-clandestine meeting just added to the feeling of your and Spencer’s being bound together in something fun and wonderful.

“Hey,” you said, looking at the blindfold. “I love you.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss your lips, but missed, landing instead on your nose. You chuckled and guided him to his intended destination.

“I love you too,” he said. There were distant sounds coming from the hallway now, and Spencer flinched nervously. “I should go,” he said, his voice trembling with excitement. “I will see you soon.”

“Okay,” you grinned. He paused for a moment, as if he could see you and was soaking in your beauty, and then he moved.

You helped usher him out the door without being seen by anyone. Almost on cue, the rest of your party came back and resumed their fussing. You let them flap about you while you reveled in the secret moment you had shared. You knew that the ceremony was just a play to put on for everyone, but at the same time, it was a way to show the world that you had found your soulmate, and to celebrate that.

The world seemed to blur around you as people went to and fro, organizing this, readying that, and you were at the eye of the storm. Before you knew it, you were outside, on the edge of the park, your father at your arm, and a stretch of aisle before you.

The crowd was fairly large, maybe seventy people divided by the aisle, but you didn’t see any of them. You didn’t notice the music starting or the crowd standing. You didn’t notice your father squeeze your arm, or feel the soft wind on your hair. All you saw, all you focused on, was the man at the end of the aisle. 

Spencer stood tall and smiling at the altar. The decorating crew had set up an arch lit by shining white lights. As the sun was nearly setting, they shone bright, and lit up your groom’s face. You made your way slowly down the aisle, although all you wanted to do was bolt to the altar. You saw Spencer take a step towards you, but Hotch laid a hand on his sleeve gently and he remained where he was. The look on Spencer’s face was some mixture of  awe and adoration.

There was a growing warmth within you as you walked the aisle. Small white candles guided you down towards Spencer. Your hands shook, and you were glad to have a bouquet to hide them behind. 

Although most of the day had sped past you, this moment slowed down. Every breath you took felt weighted with importance. You committed everything to memory. You detailed the twitch of his lips as he smiled, the hitch of his breath as you took his hand, the way the light his his hair, the yellow glow around him. He was the center of your universe, so beautiful, and so imperfect. 

You heard someone say your name, followed by a soft chorus of laughter behind you.

“What?” you asked. Walter smiled gently at you.

“I asked if you had any vows, my dear,” he said kindly.

Spencer smiled at you and suppressed his chuckle.

“Oh,” you laughed. “Yes, I do.”

You took a deep breath and recalled the words to mind. 

“I may call myself a writer, but at time like these, when words are vital, it’s hard to think of any words adequate or sufficient to describe what I feel for you, Spencer. As much as I’ll probably regret saying this, I have Morgan to thank for the main part of my vows.”

You smirked and looked back at Morgan who was grinning triumphantly.

“He once told me that I had a gift, because I was able to talk to you in a way that no one else could. But I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think it had anything to do with other people. And it was then that I stole the words of a fellow writer, and I will steal them again now. ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same,’” you smiled. “It’s unbelievably true for me. Whatever stardust, whatever atoms make up our souls… It’s you and I. I would find you in any life, in any time. Always,” you said, feeling the tears creeping up in your eyes.

A chorus of light clapping came from the crowd.

“And you, Spencer?” the justice asked.

Spencer cleared his throat and looked nervously at you.

“You’re not the only one in need of stealing from great writers,” he said. “I’ve never been very eloquent about my feelings. And it’s hard for me to rationalize what I feel for you. It’s not logical, and yet it makes sense. Choderlos de Laclos said, ‘I didn't understand what was happening to me. And it was only when I began to feel actual, physical pain every time you left the room that it finally dawned on me: I was in love, for the first time in my life. I knew it was hopeless, but that didn't matter to me. And it's not that I want to have you. All I want is to deserve you. Tell me what to do. Show me how to behave. I'll do anything you say.’ I love you, and I plan to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking at the end.

You could hear Penelope sniffling behind you, and saw JJ behind Spencer dab at her eyes.

Saying, “I do,” after that came as naturally as breathing. You would forever treasure the sensation of Spencer slipping your wedding band on your finger, and feeling his hands tremble at your touch and his ring. That kiss would remain on your lips and imprinted on your memory forever.

The cheers of the crowd seemed on the other side of some bubble. Where you were, there was only Spencer. There was only the feel of his arm taking yours, your easy steps as you walked with him down the aisle, and the way he looked at you.

You were received by smiles and cheering during the reception. By now it was much darker, and the seemingly limitless strings of lights illuminated the entire ceremony. White tents with elegant cloths covered the guests as they were seated at their round tables. There was a space for dancing, and the musicians, who Spencer found through Morgan, were getting ready off stage. 

Hoards of people mobbed you and Spencer as though you were celebrities. Your parents found you first and your mother was still recovering from her tears during the ceremony. Her mascara had run, but she looked like a happy mess. Spencer was lovely to everyone that approached you, but he kept looking away from the people addressing him to search the crowd. 

William approached the two of you shyly, waiting his turn behind other guests until the crowd had thinned. 

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” he said softly. You hadn’t seen him since the first time Spencer had talked with him. He looked thinner, his eyes were hollower. 

“Thank you,” you said, when Spencer failed to respond. 

“I’m proud of you,” he said to Spencer. “You have a good girl here. And I hope you’ll be very happy together.”

Spencer gave a half-hearted smile. 

“I love you,” his father added, nearly whispering it as if it were a secret.

Spencer nodded, but did not return the sentiment.  _ One step at a time _ , you thought.

Diana then made her way into your little circle, her aid trailing behind her, watching carefully. She had both arms out and wrapped them around Spencer, hugging him tightly. William stepped back, towards the aid, and watched. Diana kissed Spencer’s cheek and then turned to you. Although she did not hug you, she didn’t seem less happy to see you.

“Congratulations,” she said sincerely, to both of you.

“Thank, Mom,” Spencer blushed. 

Diana turned and saw William. She frowned.

“William,” she said. “You’re looking… older.”

“That does tend to happen with time,” William nodded, ignoring her blatant rudeness.

“Well, it’s good of you to make it,” she said. He nodded again, and some strange business seemed to have been settled in those words.

“Where’s the food?” Diana asked Spencer. 

“It’s coming later, Mom,” he promised. “Why don’t you let Hank take you to your seat?” he asked.

She grumbled, but nodded, allowing Hank to lead her away. William took his leave too, and walked to the other side of the room, taking a seat in the back.

“Spencer,” said a deep voice from behind you.

Spencer tensed and waited, almost as if he wasn’t sure he had heard it.

“Spencer, will you do me the honor of introducing me to your wife?” the same voice asked. 

You turned around first to see the man who had spoken. He was about your height, stern features, thinning hair, and old eyes. He wore a nice suit, and smiled at you with patience and kindness.

Spencer turned slowly, swallowing hard.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said almost breathlessly.

“Well, I’m here,” he smiled at Spencer, and suddenly Spencer’s face lit up.

He reached his hand out, but the man opened his arms and Spencer hugged him. They embraced for a long moment as you watched them. When they parted, the man kept his hand on Spencer’s shoulder and looked at him as a father might look at his son.

“Gideon,” you deduced, holding out your hand. 

He broke eye contact with Spencer and turned to you. You gave your name and he smiled. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently.

“A true pleasure to meet you,” he said. 

“The pleasure is mine,” you responded. He let your hand go.

“It was quite the ceremony,” he said smiling. “I’m sure the two of you will be very happy.” He turned to Spencer and said seriously, “Share your life with her.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Life is meaningless without someone to share it with,” he said, his eyes heavy. “Treasure each other.”

“We will,” you added. 

Just then the rest of the team walked over and saw who you were speaking with. He was welcomed with smiles and hugs, and a squeal from Penelope. You rejoiced in their happiness. Although you had just met the man, you could feel the pull, the goodness in him that drew people to him.

“Will you join us at the head table?” you asked Gideon after the team had conversed with him a while. “I believe they will be laying out the dinner soon.”

“I would be honored,” he said. 

You walked with Spencer over to a long, rectangular table. It stood at the front of the tent, facing all the guests. You were followed by the team, Jack, and Gideon. Taking your seat at the table, you saw your parents sitting with Walter and Frank at the closest table. They all waved and you waved back. 

Dinner was served, and you and your guests enjoyed your favorite meal. About halfway through the meal, Morgan tapped his glass and stood up, commanding the attention of the room with barely any effort.

“Attention, please,” he said, grinning. He raised his glass, and most of the guests followed suit. “I would like to give my love to the bride and groom. Spencer,” he said, looking at his friend, “I remember when I first met you. You were this bumbling brainiac who spewed more statistics than real words. And you haven’t changed,” the crowd laughed. “And I am so thankful for that. And I am thankful that you have found someone who loves you for you who you are, even if that is a Brainiac Pretty Boy,” he smirked. “And (Y/N),” he transferred his gaze to you. “You’re one hell of a woman. Thank you for making my best friend happy.”

He was simply smiling, but you could see the deeper emotions right in his eyes. He gave you a salutatory nod and took a sip from his cup. The crowd followed suit, and you and Spencer picked up your glasses and toasted as well.

Other toasts with warm feelings, good wishes, and fond memories were shared, but none left such a lasting impression as Morgan’s. 

Once the food had settled, the cake was brought out. It wasn’t anything incredibly fancy, but you had tasted it, and it was delicious. Heads bobbed up, over, and sideways to get a view of the two of you approaching the cake. The pieces were cut, and you and Spencer grinned at each other, holding the cake in your hands.

“Ready?” he asked, posing his hand near your lips.

“Ready,” you confirmed.

You gently fed each other the pieces of cake, although the crowd seemed disappointed by the lack of messiness. The cake was amazing, and after you finished eating the piece, you kissed Spencer. The cake was distributed and enjoyed, and you and Spencer mingled with your guests. The musicians took their places on the small stage and the singer took the mic. 

“This song is for the bride and groom,” he said softly.

Spencer took your hand and guided you to the middle of the dance floor. He held you close and the two of you began to sway in what you both hoped passed for a dance.

“Everyone’s staring,” he whispered into your ear.

“They’re supposed to be,” you giggled.

You danced through half the song before the musicians invited everyone on to the floor to dance the song with you. The evening was a lovely blur after that. You were surrounded by people, music, food, and drink. Although the two of you were not usually one for dancing, the people you were with made it fun. Jack wanted to dance every dance with you, and for the most part, you obliged. Even William and Diana danced for a little while. Spencer’s interactions with his father were strained, and very few, but at least he seemed to appreciate his father’s presence. Gideon stayed close to Spencer and the team the entire night, often speaking to you, wanting to know more about you. 

The day and night really couldn’t have gone more perfectly if you had written it yourself. By the end of the night, around midnight, everyone was wearing down. The crowd was petering out, and many people wished you both a goodnight before heading home. 

You didn’t want to leave. The ride back seemed like it would break the spell which had fallen over you like a warm blanket. You and Spencer were sitting by yourselves at a table with your drinks and some cake, resting, when the team came over to you, followed by Gideon.

“Should we go?” you asked, seeing as they were pretty much the only guests remaining. 

“Actually, you should go,” Hotch said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. “We have a small surprise for you.”

Spencer reached for the key and took it in his hand, examining the tag that accompanied it. 

“A hotel key?” he asked. 

“That there’s a presidential suite,” Morgan informed you. “On us, for the weekend.”

You looked at Spencer and then the team.

“Think of it as a mini honeymoon,” JJ offered. 

“Oh my gosh,” you gushed. “Thank you guys so much!”

“Anything for you two,” Penelope smiled. 

Saying goodnight was hard, but you promised to be in touch soon with the team. Gideon hugged you and kissed your cheek. 

“Be good to him,” he whispered so only you could hear.

You nodded and watched as he motioned for Spencer to follow him. They stood a few yards away from the group and talked for almost five minutes while you and the team chatted, but kept an eye on them. You wondered what he was saying, but knew that it must be important for Spencer to hear it.

After they finished talking, they returned. Spencer looked tired, but happy. Gideon look almost relieved, or at least satisfied. 

With the promise to keep in touch, Gideon left, followed soon after by the team. The hired hands began breaking down the setup, and Spencer called a cab to get you to the hotel.

Before you realized you were shivering, Spencer had taken off his jacket and laid it on your shoulders. You looked up at him, and he kissed you. 

“I love you, Mrs. Reid,” he smiled. 

You wrapped yourself inside his arms, pressing yourself against your husband as you waited for a cab, utterly happy.


	25. Chapter 25

The back of the cab was warm. Soft, jazzy music filled the car, and Spencer’s arm held you snug against his body. His jacket molded itself around your shoulder, protecting you. He pressed lazy, sleepy kisses to the top of your head every once in a while. Perhaps the cab driver should have been more interested in a couple whose outfits consisted of a tux and a wedding dress, but he kept his interactions with you strictly business, leaving the remainder of the ride to be filled with the radio and squeaking of the breaks. The windows had fogged up a little, causing the light from the street lamps to blur pleasantly around the edges of the windows.

You fingered the pendant delicately with your left hand, looking at how the wedding ring sat next to the engagement ring, following your fingers down to the small golden heart between them. The past, the present, and the future, all in one, it seemed.

Part of you wished the cab ride would never end. It was warm and quiet, and Spencer held you as if he were holding up a part of himself. However, the cab arrived at the hotel, and stopped on the curb to let you out. Spencer took your hand and led you out of the car. His ring made you smile, and you happily took his left hand in your right to feel the metal against your skin.

The hotel was grander than you had anticipated. You checked in without a problem, and were brought up to the room. Penelope and Hotch had each sent your bags that you had brought with you ahead of time, so you didn’t have to worry about carrying everything. You realized, however, that you had not anticipated the wonderful gift of the weekend that your friends had given you, and didn’t have enough clothes. Privately, you smiled to yourself, knowing that you wouldn’t need them anyway.

The room was on the top floor, in the corner of the hotel. You gasped as you walked inside, taking in the floor to ceiling windows of the main room, and the city lights that lay sparkling beneath you. You immediately walked over to the windows, past the lounging area and television. You pressed yourself against the cool glass and heard Spencer chuckle and mutter something to the bell boy that had led you up. The door closed, and you turned to see that Spencer was standing by it, having just let the man out. He turned and looked at you, almost as if you were an ethereal creature he wasn’t quite sure was real.

You smiled and turned back to the window, knowing he would find his way over to you. He walked softly on the carpet, coming up behind you and putting his hands on your hips. He kissed your neck, moving some curls that were in his path.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly.

The light from cars far below you streaked the streets with red and white. It had begun to rain, coating the windows with droplets.

“I’m thinking that I must have fallen into a fairy tale,” you whispered.

“Do you think fairy tales include serial killers?” he smirked, you could see his reflection in the glass.

“They include damsels, White Knights, and monsters,” you responded. 

“If anything, you are the White Knight,” he said. “You have never needed saving.”

“Who says you haven’t saved me?” you asked.

“Who says I have?” he countered, furrowing his brows in confusion.

You turned around, keeping your back pressed against the window. He let his hands stay on your hips. He looked down at you, awaiting your answer.

“I say you have,” you smiled lightly.

“How’s that?” he asked, genuinely confused.

You looked up at him and brushed a fallen strand of hair out of his face. He was so beautiful in that moment, his eyes glossy with fatigue, his lip held between his teeth, his cheeks flushed.

“So many ways,” you said, just watching him for a moment. He did not seem satisfied with that answer. You waited, just a moment, before saying, “I fear no fate.”

“For you are my fate, my sweet,” he smiled, not missing a beat.

“I want no world.”

“For beautiful you are my world, my true,” he finished before kissing you. 

His warm lips contrasted to the cold window behind you. You shed his jacket and began unbuttoning his vest. Your movements were purposeful, but not rushed. The vest was easily gotten rid of, and you kissed him again. His hands swept downwards, and before you could squeal with delight, he had picked you up, bridal style, and began carrying you to the bedroom.

You didn’t have time or light to appreciate the lavish bedroom. Spencer set you down next to the bed. You turned so he could unzip your wedding gown, but felt him hesitate. You glanced back at him over your shoulder to see what the matter was. He had his hands poised over the back of the dress. It was merely a zipper, not anything complex, and you wondered why he was staring at you like this.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

His eyes jumped to yours, seemingly taken off guard, unaware that he had been staring.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “I was just having a hard time thinking of you out of this dress.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, unsure why he would not want you nude.

“It’s silly,” he blushed. “But you became  _ my wife _ in this dress.”

“I’ll still be your wife when you take it off,” you promised.

He smiled and nodded as his fingers grasped the zipper clumsily. You exhaled to allow the dress to unzip with ease, and soon you heard the sound of the zipper, and felt the fabric loosen around you.

The dress fell around your feet and you grabbed it and flung it over a nearby chair. Returning to Spencer in your bra and panties, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. Soon your lips were moving faster and his shaky hands went to the buttons on his shirt. You help him by pulling the tucked shirt out from his pants and unbuttoning from the bottom, meeting him in the middle. 

He shed his shirt and undershirt quickly, and you moved to undo his belt. You let his pants fall to the floor, followed by his underwear. His trembling hands felt their way along the line of your bra, feeling for the clasp in the back.

“Why are you shaking?” you whispered between kisses.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, letting his hands settle as they cupped your face. “I think I’m just filled up with too much,” he smiled.

“Too much?”

“I’m not sure my body was made to handle this amount of happiness,” he laughed nervously.

“I think it’ll have to adjust,” you smiled, pulling him against you. 

Spencer smiled into the kiss and guided you backwards, onto the king-sized bed. You sunk into the down comforter. The two windows in the room allowed the pale moonlight to seep inside, casting a bluish glow upon the walls and furniture. You slid your panties off and cast them aside. Spencer climbed onto the bed after you, hovering over you for a moment before pressing himself against you.

This man, this genius, fumbling, beautiful man, was your husband. This man, whose lightest touch sent overpowering sensations along every thread of nerves in your body, whose voice melted over you in comforting waves, whose scent swathed you in the feeling of family, was bound to you in body and spirit for the rest of your lives.

As he moved his hips, pumping himself in and out of you, as your legs wrapped around his waist, as you cried out his name from your trembling lips, your vows, the memories you had stored in your mind of all your favorite moments together, the still image of his face as he said “I do,” flooded your senses.

The beating of rain against the window, the cool hotel air, the sound of his skin on your skin, the taste of his lips, was all overwhelming.

You came together, breathless, flushed, and aching. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, your legs tight around his waist, until you were able to relax. He rolled to the side, sliding out of you slowly, reluctantly. You rolled to face him, noting the sweat in his hair, the way the moonlight caressed his skin, his flushed cheeks, and sparkling eyes.

You reached for his left hand and held it in front of you. The ring was smooth, and cold to your fingertips. He watched you as you examined the ring. It was simple, golden, fairly thin. You knew that in years to come, this perfect, smooth surface would fade. There would be scratches, worn edges, fading colors. There would be love, and life; there would be fights, and forgiveness, longing, and oneness. There would be the story of the two of you, written on the rings that bound you to each other.

He whispered, softly, faintly, “Here is the deepest secret nobody knows/here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud/and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows/higher than soul can hope or mind can hide/and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart.”

“I carry your heart,” you continued, “I carry it in my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and support through this!  
> I'm sorry it was such a short last chapter - I was thinking about doing a honeymoon, but it just seemed right to end it like this. (Yay for finally using the last stanza. Shout out to e. e. cummings for essentially carrying this story)  
> I will begin outlining and writing a sequel to this soon! I'm thinking Spencer with a baby is something I have to see (write).


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